Durham's Little Gene Kelly
by Charlie Hartley
Summary: This is an improved version of my last story. Billy and Tony have a sister, and I'm exploring the relationship between the three. I've also added in little scenes of my own, at the same time as following the basic structure of the original story. If you think a chapter is worth it, then just drop a line, just so I know someone's enjoying it.
1. Chapter 1

Billy placed the record on to the player. He loved this record; Cosmic Dancer, by . He would spend as much time as possible dancing to it when his family were out, and he was left alone looking after his Grandma, as he was that evening. His dad and twenty-two year old brother were out drinking with their mining friends, or something like that. He hadn't really been paying attention. Hannah, his elder sister, was out and about, probably with her friends. He knew that none of them would be back for ages, and he didn't have to be anywhere, not on a Wednesday evening. Not on any evening. All Billy had on his agenda was making his Nana take her tablets, and she was napping anyway.

He was dancing for a good fifteen minutes before he realised anyone was watching. He'd obviously miscalculated how long Hannah would spend out. She was standing with a half smile on her face. ''ave you been 'avin' any lessons?'

Billy shook his head vigorously. No way! He couldn't go to a dancing lesson. 'You should come along on Saturday.' As a Saturday job, Hannah would play the piano for the girls to do their ballet exercises to. Billy thought that she probably had a considerable amount of money, because she'd been doing it for years, and it wasn't like she had anything other than piano books to spend it on. She said that she was saving up for university.

'I can't. Watta 'bout boxin'?'

'Pfft. Boxin' shmoxin'. Gowan. You'd enjoy it!'

'No, I wouldn't!'

'Yer would.'

'I wouldn't!'

'Anyway,' Hannah said before the argument spiralled out of control. 'I just came back to check on Grandma.'

'She's nappin'.'

'Is she?!'

Billy frowned. 'Isn't she?'

'I never saw 'er. 'aven't you been keepin' an eye on 'er?' Hannah's eyes widened. 'You knob!'

'She must be in there,' Billy said uncertainly, before rushing out of the bedroom with Hannah to see. Sure enough, the bed was completely empty.

'Jesus Christ, Billy! I actually can't believe it.'

Billy started to argue back, but Hannah was already sprinting out of the door. Billy followed her, and realised with a sinking heart that the rest of the evening was going to be spent looking for his nan.

Jackie had gone down to the Miner's Club for a much earned drink with his friends. He didn't see why he shouldn't; he needed a break. Being on strike was hard work, especially with a difficult adult son, an adolescent teenaged daughter, and a cheeky eleven year old, and no one around to help him with them other than his aged mother in law. He was perfectly happy and relaxed, until George looked out of the fire escape. The doors were wide open because nobody could be bothered to close them. 'Jackie,' he said, having stopped smiling. 'Is that yer mother in law?'

Everyone was looking out of the door then, and saw all the police in their riot gear getting out of the vans, and Jackie's late wife's mother walking straight towards them. 'Christ, looks like trouble, lads,' one said.

Jackie ran outside and shouted, 'Eileen!' but she didn't react. He ran down the steps to get her before she was completely randomly arrested by the bastard pigs.

Meanwhile, Hannah was running about on the other side of the village, yelling for her Grandma, trying to compete with the freight train that was running past. She didn't know what it was carrying. Nearly all the miners were on strike. 'Grandma, where ah yer!'

Billy had followed her, and started kicking the sign. They both knew how much trouble he'd end up getting in if they didn't find her. He was nearly crying, and the Elliots never cried.

'Why won't you come back?' he said, letting the tears streaming down his face. Hannah wasn't sure whether he was talking about their grandmother, or their mum. 'I've done nothin' wrong!'

The rest of Jackie's friends were following Jackie down the fire escape, while Jackie sprinted to get Grandma. But the policemen were ready for him, and grabbed hold of both of his arms, as he struggled to get the old woman, who was muttering something about her pasty. 'Eileen!' But it was like Eileen couldn't hear a word he said.

Billy was still standing with his hands on his head, while Hannah tried to pretend she hadn't noticed his tears, but it was awkward, to say the least. She eventually said, 'C'mon. We're never goin' to find 'er at this rate.'

Jackie was being circled and beaten by six or seven policemen by the time Hannah and Billy pelted down the street. 'Dad!' they both shouted, not allowed to go to their father as he was being forced into the van.

'Where were you?!'

'I'm sorry!' Billy shouted as they struggled against the police, who found a teenage girl and a young boy no trouble.

'You were supposed to be lookin' after 'er!' He was finally in the vehicle and it was pulling away, Billy screaming after him.

'_Dad!'_

Later that evening Billy, Hannah, and their neighbour were sitting in silence in the living room, all around one sofa. Billy was hugging his knees, trying to get rid of the sick feeling in his gut, while Hannah gazed longingly at the piano. These were the sort of times when sitting at that and singing some ancient tune and making her Gran smile was all that could take her mind off her worries. They all leaped up when they heard the door. 'Where the fuck were you?!' Tony had started shouting before he had even got into the living room.

'I just went out for five minutes!' He decided that saying he was dancing wasn't the best tack, and just prayed that Hannah wouldn't contradict him.

'Where were you Billy?' he said threateningly, before noticing his sister. 'And where were you, Hannah?'

'Where were you, eh, Tony? Out 'avin' a drink with yer little mates?'

The neighbour had to break them up before they were at each other's throats. 'We gotta get him a solicitor,' she said.

Tony ran his hands through his hair. 'I don't believe this!'

'It wasn't my fault!' Billy insisted.

'Who's fault was it then?'

'As much your's at it was 'is!' Hannah wasn't particularly fond of Billy, but she certainly liked him more than Tony, and was happy to use him to wind Tony up.

'You little twat!' Tony carried on, ignoring his sister. 'Of course it was your fault!'

Billy had no answer for him. Tony stormed out of the room, slamming the door, and screaming 'Shit!'

Hannah sat at the piano and started forcing out a loud, angry piece that she said was 'romance', while Billy slid down the wall and tried to fight tears again.

The mood wasn't a lot better by the next Saturday morning, but Jackie had been released from custody, and Hannah was happy, because she was spending the next two hours playing without anybody shouting at her. She was singing Moon River loudly as she fried eggs, and stuffed food down her throat. Billy was timing toast perfectly, while Tony was sort of pretending to help Hannah. He liked to think he was teaching her to cook, while actually she knew what she was doing. But she couldn't be bothered to argue with him properly. 'Look, stop messing about,' Tony said to her. 'Yer not doing it right.'

'Yeah, whatever. Piss off, Tony.'

'Don't speak to me like that, Hannah.'

'I'm crossing you in...' She gulped. 'Style someday.'

'Two... One...' Billy counted down carefully. 'Toast!'

Tony grabbed the toast as it flew out of the toaster, and threw it at Billy. He stared at it incredulously. 'Burnt!' Jackie came out of the bathroom, and Billy grinned.

'Toast!' He threw it at his dad. But he had mistimed it terribly, because his dad was still in an awful mood. All he got for his trouble was a slap on the arm and harsh words.

'You don't bloody throw food! Get those gloves off.' Billy was wearing his boxing gloves in preparation for the morning ahead.

Hannah had turned the volume right down when her dad came in, and was singing under her breath, but she hadn't stopped. Jackie was horrified by the plate that was put in front of him. 'What's this?'

'What d'yer mean? I bloody well cooked that for yer,' Tony complained. Hannah turned around.

'What you on about, sonny? I bloody well cooked that!'

'Yer didn't do nothing.'

'Tosser.'

'Hannah!' her dad said. 'Don't speak to your brother like that.' Hannah ignored him, helping her grandma line up her tablets carefully.

Before Jackie had taken a bite, Tony snatched the food away, and replaced it with Jackie's boots. 'Breakfast's finished. Stop leavin' yer boots in the kitchen!' Tony slammed the door as he left the house, and Hannah still hadn't finished singing.

'Hannah, stop singing.' Hannah pretended that she hadn't heard him. 'Hannah, stop it, stop singing!'

Billy smirked, and Hannah winked when she caught his eye. 'Stop it, stop, stop!' You could tell that he really had no idea what he was meant to do with a young girl who wasn't a young girl anymore, and Hannah knew it, and was taking advantage of it.

'Anyway, Billy an' I 'ad better go. C'mon.'

Hannah got up. ''ang on a tick, I'll just get me coat.' Billy decided to contribute to his dad's frustration.

'Can I 'ave my fifty p now?'


	2. Chapter 2

Billy couldn't remember once saying that he enjoyed boxing. He simply went because he didn't really feel that he had a choice. Nobody had ever asked him, anyway.

His sister would only talk to him if she needed him for something, or if she was just generally in a really good mood. She'd usually walk ahead on the way to the Saturday morning clubs, humming and working out fingerings on the top of her thighs, completely lost in her own little world.

But today, she wanted him to do something, and she was in a fairly good mood. After asking him about school, and... Well, not a lot went on in Billy's life other than school, but after making small talk with her little brother, she asked a question which immediately dampened the mood. 'You gonna go to the ballet class, or what?'

'No!'

'Why not?'

Billy picked up a small branch, and started dragging it along the wall.

'I can't go to the ballet class.'

'Why not?'

Billy wanted to say that he couldn't because he was a boy, and it was a girl's thing, but he couldn't, because this was Hannah. Hannah was big on women's rights and completely against sexism, so while that probably would have worked on anyone else, Hannah was an exception. She was an exception in nearly everything. 'Exceptional'. That's what it said in all her school reports.

'Watta 'bout me boxin' and that?'

'You 'ate boxin'!'

'No, I don't.' Hannah took the branch off him, snapped it in half, and threw both halves away. Billy just sighed. This sibling bullying was certainly not unheard of when it came to Billy and his big brother and sister. Hannah sighed as well.

'Whatever. You'll regret it when yer older, that's all I'm saying.' She strode away from him, and he slowed down. He wasn't sure about what she said, because he thought that ballet did look like fun. But he couldn't do it. There was no way he'd get away with it; his dad and brother would go nuts, and he'd never hear the end of it if it got out in school. But none of the girls in his class went; they were far too sophisticated. He began to ponder on whether he could do it. He didn't realise that he'd slowed down so much that he may as well have stopped until Hannah turned around and shouted at him to hurry up. Then he started to run.

It didn't matter how much he'd rush every week, he always managed to be late. He considered it a skill. When he walked in, he had to walk past Hannah's blessed ballerinas with their white tutus and tights and leotards. That day they were rehearsing in one end of the boxing hall, because their hall was being used as a soup kitchen for the miners. Hannah was playing long complicated scales up and down the piano while the girls stretched and George, the boxing instructor, shouted at all the boys.

Hannah played the piano because their mum had. Billy had very vague memories of Hannah sitting on their mum's lap and copying the pieces her mum would play. And Hannah slowly got better, and before Billy knew it, she was as good as her mum, and was pretty much teaching herself. Hannah had originally gone to the ballet lessons, but she hadn't liked them at all. She only went because her mum was the pianist, until she one day stopped dancing and sat down next to her mum. Every week from then on, Hannah would play with her mum, learning the pieces, playing the easiest ones, until one day her mum simply watched as she played for the whole two hours. But then, three years before, their mum had died, and Hannah was left to her own devices. Which were, admittedly, pretty good devices.

Hannah had also become friends with the dancing teacher, although Billy couldn't see the attraction. She was middle aged, and always seemed to be cross, shouting all the time and groaning whenever someone spoke to her. And she stank of smoke from the disgusting cigarettes which were permanently in her mouth. Although Billy had never actually had a conversation with her, he didn't really want to either.

'Oi! Elliot! Yer late. Get changed, and get in 'ere.' George wasn't exactly a sweetheart either, though. Before Billy knew it, he was in the boxing ring, with his granddad's ancient boxing gloves the only thing between the other boy and his face. He was terrified; he really was desperate not to be hurt, as he was whenever he was in the boxing ring. He decided on the spur of the moment that he would do exactly what he was banned from doing every week, which was to move out of the opponent's grasp. George hated him doing it so much that he once climbed into the ring and actually held Billy still, forcing him to hold out his fists as the boys got to beat the shit out of him.

'This is man to man combat, not a bloody tea dance!' George was shouting. 'What're yer dein'? Crazy, 'e is, 'e's just pissing about. He's like fanny in a fit, 'it 'em!'

Billy ignored George; he usually did. 'Billy! Hit 'em!' Jackie roared from the ballet end of the boxing hall. Billy turned his head to see who was shouting at him, but the opponent took the opportunity, and with a thud and a groan, Billy was lying on the floor. He turned his head to watch Jackie walk away. His youngest son was a disappointment. There was no other way of putting it. Hannah snorted without lifting her head, starting to play Dancing Queen.

'Oi! Hannah, give it a rest!'

Hannah stopped abruptly. 'Billy, punch bag.'

Billy spent the next hour and a half pretending to box, when he was actually looking at the girls trying to dance, but they were rubbish. He was convinced that he would be able to do better. He didn't get to watch them very often; in fact, he didn't think he had seen them dance for years.

When he realised that George was watching, he pulled his act together, and tried to seriously punch the bag. He was the last boy there. 'You're not goin' till yer do it properly.' He threw a bunch of keys at Billy. 'Give the keys to Mrs Wilkinson and 'er dance class when yer finish, I'll see yer next week.'

Once George had left, Billy gave up on the punchbag, and went to inspect the ballet class close up. Mrs Wilkinson was shouting instructions in words Billy didn't know the meaning of. He promised himself that he'd ask Hannah. Hannah was belting out the music, trying to compete with Mrs Wilkinson's booming voice. She had no music; she knew them all like the back of her hand. Mrs Wilkinson could simply ask for something a bit jazzy, and Hannah would have something up her sleeve. And if she didn't get it spot on first time, then all Mrs Wilkinson would have to do would say, 'Swing, please,' or, 'No, not that! Free jazz.' And Hannah would be playing exactly what she wanted.

'Miss,' said Billy, trying to grab her attention. 'Miss, the keys.' Mrs Wilkinson lit a cigarette.

'Not now,' she said, without looking at him. 'Right, Hannah, give us The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow. Fat chance.' And Mrs Wilkinson had walked away.

Billy watched the countless, identical girls run around, waving their arms about, convinced that he could do it ten times better. He glanced at himself in the mirror as Mrs Wilkinson told them all how to stand. 'Stomach, in. Chest, up and proud. Shoulders down. Nice long neck, please. Stand tall. Eyes forward, and... Rise.' Billy had barely realised that he was doing what she said, nor had he realised that Mrs Wilkinson was watching him, until she came up and pinched his bum. 'Come 'ere.' She held onto his wrist, and led him away from the mirror.

He stood in the corner and watched as Mrs Wilkinson started saying rubbish and the girls followed what Billy assumed was her instructions, but he had no way of knowing. Debbie, a girl from the year below him, came up to him. 'Why don'cha join in?'

Billy looked at the girls and had to stop himself from sneering. 'Nah.'

'Thank you girls, in the corner please for improvisation.'

'Oi, Billy!' his sister hissed from the corner. 'Over 'ere.'

When Billy was standing by the piano, Hannah asked, 'Feelin' bashful?'

'I dunno whatta do.' Hannah pulled a face.

'Do what yer like. That's the whole point of improvisation. Gowan, I dare yer.' Billy decided that it didn't matter if he had one go. It would make his sister happy, to say the least.

He got in line behind the girls, as they all pranced about like prats. 'Come on!' Mrs Wilkinson shouted. 'Pretend yer enjoyin' it. Next. Next.' When it was Billy's turn, she raised her eyebrows. 'Don't be shy.'

He took off his gloves and hat. Do what you like. Billy could do what he liked all day. When he was ready, he did three flips in a row. It wasn't hard. It was only what he'd taught himself to do while he trespassed on muddy fields in the long summer holidays. But he knew the it was a lot better than what any of the girls in the room could do. He just wasn't sure if it was ballet.

He fished the keys out of his pocket, and held them out for Mrs Wilkinson once they were face to face. 'Miss, the keys.' After staring at him for a long time, she took them from him, and thanked him. He couldn't help but smile, especially when Hannah beamed back at him. 'Hannah, why 'ave you stopped? Next!'

Billy picked up another branch on his way home. Hannah didn't say a word about the morning, until Billy turned around. 'You won't tell anyone, will yer?'

''bout what?'

'This mornin'.'

''o d'yer think I am?' They carried on walking in silence, until Hannah spotted someone she knew.

'Oi, Tom!'

She left Billy to walk on his own, which Billy wasn't sore over. He didn't mind having time on his own. Which he got, until a car beeped its horn at him, and pulled up alongside the young boy. 'You owe me fifty pence!'

'No, I don't!'

'Why don't yer bring it along next week?' Mrs Wilkinson asked, letting her car cruise at the same speed as Billy's walking.

'Can't. Gotta go to boxin',' he spat at her, as if it would somehow make her leave him alone.

'Butcha crap at boxin'!' Debbie told him from the other side of the car, with her little pinched up face.

'No, I'm not!' How dare she? What does she know, anyway?

'Shut it,' Mrs Wilkinson told her daughter, stopping her car. 'But yer enjoyed it,' she said to Billy. He didn't reply. He knew that he did, but he didn't want to admit it, as if it would somehow make it not true. Mrs Wilkinson raised her eyebrows.

'Please yerself, darlin'!'

Billy didn't know what to think.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, he was stuck back in front of Michael, his best friend, and not bothering to listen to his teacher drone on about rubbish that he was certain was never going to help him later on in life. Billy thought that school was probably one of the most pointless things in the world. He thought that she was saying something about coal, but he wasn't really sure. Billy didn't think it mattered why the coal was there, or who put the coal there. All that mattered that it was there, and it was ready for miners to dig up. 'If the dinosaurs fell into the mud, they were preserved. This is what we call fossils.'

Michael hit the back of Billy's head with his ruler. 'Ow!'

'That's what musta 'appened to 'er,' he said quietly.

'Shurrup!'

'Michael Caffrey, if you 'ave somethin' to say, y'can say it to the class.'

'Sorry, Miss.' Billy carried on doodling all over his book.

'So, who put the coal there, Miss?' Johnny asked. Johnny went to Billy's boxing club; Billy thought that he was probably quite clever, but let on that he was as thick as forty bricks.

'I've just explained,' the teacher sighed. 'Nobody put the coal there. It was made by the forces of nature.' Billy didn't really care.

'Who owns it then, Miss?'

'Whoever dug it up, I suppose.'

'The miners?'

'No. Whoever owned the mines...' She was going to continue, but Johnny interrupted her.

'The government?'

'Yeah. So...'

'No, it's not, Miss,' Susan said, standing up.

'What d'yer mean? Course it is,' the teacher said, looking a bit confused.

'Coal is the commonwealth of the people, Miss, and it's bein' robbed by enemies of the workin' class.'

'Beg yer pardon?'

'We're bein' exploited by class interest, Miss.'

Miss looked confused as Billy's eyes glazed over. 'Who told yer that, Susan?'

'Me dad, Miss.' Johnny stood up as well, and Susan gave a him a quick smile. All the girls fancied Johnny. Michael said it was because he had cute, permanently tousled hair, and was a mischief maker, and funny, and he had big blue eyes... Billy usually stopped him before Michael got carried away.

'But watta 'bout God?' Johnny said, frowning.

'What?' Miss was getting agitated.

'Didn't he put the coal down there an' all?'

'Well, I suppose in a wider sense-'

'But God doesn' exist.'

Miss ground her teeth together. 'That is merely a matter of opinion, Susan.'

'But it's true, isn't it, Miss? That God never really existed?'

'Copy down the diagram, please, we only 'ave five minutes left.' The teacher was clearly getting flustered.

'My dad says that God was created it so that people didn't realise their full potential. Isn't it true, Miss?

Billy couldn't give the tiniest shit whether God existed or not. Unless he could help Billy through the crisis he was in, which Billy doubted, Billy didn't especially care who'd put the coal in the mine. 'Susan. I think we can leave speculation about the divine for RE.'

_The miners, united, will never be defeated, _Billy thought. Well, when the kids unite, no teacher could defeat them. The children, united, will never be defeated. Too right, they won't.

Hannah was having an equally boring day at school. She was in her last year of A-Levels, which meant that she had to go to a sixth form college in Newcastle. It was a thirty five minute bus ride each way, but she thought it was worth it. She loved being in a school with hard working, like minded people; even if they were all posh dicks, who were sore because she was much smarter than them, and she came from only a simple, mining family.

Hannah didn't fit in very well at her comprehensive. She worked very hard, and always came top of the class, which clashed with being Tony's sister, who was a hero at her stupid school. He had punched one of the teachers out, legend had it. Hannah didn't think it was that much of an admirable thing to do. True, the teacher was a prick, but punching him didn't really prove anything. It just got Tony in trouble.

The first thing she did after her long day at school was sit down at the kitchen table, and study, before Tony arrived and shouted her out of the room. She would do anything; homework, extra homework, revising, reading up on her subjects. She was studying English, history, French and maths. She got straight A* in every one.

It didn't take long for Tony to arrive, and sure enough, the first thing he did was slam his hands on the table, making everything shake. She sighed. 'What're yer doin'?'

'Homework. Is that permitted?'

'Don't use that tone with me,' he said, as he started to take down the washing. 'No, yer can't, anyway. Not when yer need to do the washin', and cook the tea, and make sure Billy's ready fer bed by nine, and make sure Nan's OK, and tidy yer room.'

'I'm so sorry, did yer slave get kidnapped by fairies, so now you''ve been reduced to bullyin' yer sister?'

'Less 'a' the attitude, alright?'

'Yeah, whatever, yer not me mam.' Tony slapped her arm. 'Ow!'

'Stop it. Get on with the laundry.' Hannah stared him out, as he dropped the T-shirts and underwear on her work. He walked out of the room, and Hannah looked at the kitchen. She knew that she really was going to have to do everything Tony had listed. She wanted to kick the table and yell, but instead sighed again.

'Shit.'

_**OK, I'm sorry that that was short! I wrote this in front of The Voice and Doctor Who, so sorry if it's a bit scrappy. But I need to concentrate on the TV now, so I'm stopping here. I'll post some more soon. Promise! (By the way, I hate Author's Notes as much as the next person. I just thought that the less-than-a-thousand worded chapter needed an apology, and an explanation)**_


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Billy was sat up in bed, listening to the loud music that were coming through his brother's headphones, and tapping a rhythm under his bed sheets. He shared a room with Tony. He used to share with Hannah, until she said that she was getting far too old to share with her little brother. Then Tony got chucked out of his own room, and Hannah got it instead. Billy couldn't really remember, but he guessed that that was when it all kicked off between them. Before, they seemed to have quite liked each other; or at least wouldn't piss each other off at the first chance they got.

He was thinking about dancing, and whether it was a good idea or not. He wasn't so sure that it was. The male members of his family were, without a doubt, going to kill him, as would the kids at school. But he didn't give a shit about school, and Hannah would support him. She really wanted him to dance, and it was very rare for his dad to contradict whatever Hannah would say, and win. And, of course, it would give her a bone to pick with Tony.

And he really enjoyed it. He quite liked it in the class, and he loved messing about on his own in his room. If he could actually do it well, it would be worth any beating he would take for it.

He suddenly started to wonder what his family would actually think of it. What was wrong with dancing? Didn't people do it all the time? Was it just because it was lessons? How did people get any good at it if they weren't taught by someone?

'Tony,' he said, loudly, trying to grab Tony's attention over the sound of T-Rex coming from his brother's headphones. His brother didn't hear him. 'Tony!' he shouted. He decided that his brother could probably hear him, and was just ignoring him. ''ave you ever been dancing with a girl?' he shouted again.

His brother took off the headphones angrily. 'What?'

''ave you ever been out dancin', with a girl?'

Tony stared at him for a moment. ''o the fuck d'yer think I am?'

Billy sighed. It was hopeless. There was no way he'd ever win his family round to the idea of dancing. 'Yer not having a wank are you?'

Billy supposed that his tapping under the sheets could have looked a bit like masturbating, but Tony's obsession with Billy wanking was getting annoying. He stopped immediately. 'No,' he said quickly.

'Well, you'd better not be. Filthy animal.'

Billy frowned, before switching off his light, lying down, and staring into the darkness. He was nearly asleep, when someone knocked, and opened the door. 'Tony,' his sister whispered. Billy sat up, and Tony lifted his headphones off his ears.

'What, man?'

'What time are yer goin'?'

Billy knew exactly what she was talking about. Tony had been planning on going secretly down the mines to steal coal for weeks, with his best friend. It was less of the fact that they were getting chilly in the evenings (it was becoming spring, anyway) and more of a statement. But then his best friend had gone back to the coal mines. Billy remembered it clearly:

Martin had come round to tell Tony especially. He had been saying that he had to support a young family, while Tony had his dad, and Hannah around the house. They'd started shouting, Martin saying something like Tony had it much easier than himself. Billy had heard chairs scraping, and something smashing, and the next thing he knew, Tony had a split lip, and Martin's name wasn't to be mentioned in the house. Billy and Hannah had been listening through the door, and when Jackie found them, they got a smack for their trouble.

So, Tony needed someone else to go down with him. Hannah had flatly refused; she said that no university was taking her on if she had a criminal record. So Billy volunteered. He didn't care if he had a criminal record or not. He was supposed to become a miner, anyway, and he knew loads of miners that were going to prison. So, after a lot of debating between the three, it came to be that Billy and Tony would go down the mine, while Hannah kept look out for them, made sure Jackie hadn't realised they were gone, covering up for them when they came home, black with coal. She had originally complained that she was getting all the stressy jobs, but Tony had swiftly reminded her that it was he who risked getting an even longer stretch in prison by taking his younger brother with him.

Billy had completely forgotten that it was scheduled for that night. By the look on Tony's face, so had he. 'You 'aven't fuckin' forgotten, 'ave yer?'

Billy was about to confirm Hannah's suspicions, when Tony interrupted him. 'It's you that's forgotten. We're goin' when it's pitch black.'

'It is pitch black.'

'And Dad's in bed, as well.'

'Dad is in bed.' Tony paused, thinking of something else to say. 'What're yer waitin' for? I'll 'ave food ready for yers when you get back, and a bath.'

Tony obviously could think of nothing to stall the event any longer, so he started to get out of bed. 'Why are you in yer pyjamas?! I thought the idea was that you would wear proper clothes before yer left.'

'Yeah, but what if Dad 'ad come in?'

Hannah groaned. Billy was watching them like a tennis match, unsure if he was getting out of bed or not. Tony finally climbed out of bed properly, and Hannah immediately shielded her eyes. 'Fuckin' 'ell! Why aren't yer wearin' any trousers?'

'What?' he said, wearing nothing but a T-Shirt. 'I was 'ot.'

Hannah made a disgusted sound. and then walked out. 'Come on, Billy,' Tony said, getting dressed. 'We 'ave work to do.'

Nearly two hours later, Tony and Billy emerged from the mine, with two enormous bags full of coal. They had successively stolen the coal, and were now both sat down on the hill, catching their breath, completely worn out. It was then that something crossed Billy's mind.

'Tony?'

'What?'

'Why d'yer never bring any girls home with yer?'

Tony looked at his brother. His face really was blackened with coal. 'Why d'yer think?'

'Well, I dunno. That's why I asked.' He thought that that much at least was obvious. What was the point in asking something if you knew the answer?

'Because you're in me room.'

'It ain't my fault!'

'I know. It's Hannah's.' He got up, and started to stumble away, his eyes still not quite adjusted to the light outside, even if it was one o'clock in the morning.

'I thought yer might like 'avin' a brother around,' Billy called after him. He was really hurt. He wanted to be Tony's friend, and would be happily, if he was only allowed.

'Come on.'

It wasn't until Billy was in the bath, with Hannah scrubbing him down, that Tony said anything to him. His big brother was sitting on the toilet seat, with a mug of tea, and his sister tutted and sighed. 'How the Hell did yer get coal under your armpits?!'

'Sorry.'

She scooped up a jug of water, with the plastic jug, and poured it over Billy's head. Billy hated it when the water went in his eyes, but he didn't dare complain.

'Look, Billy. I'm sorry,' Tony said.

''bout what?' Hannah asked as she cleaned out Billy's ears. 'And in yer ears! Jesus Christ.' Neither boy replied to her question. 'What 'appened?' she asked again, looking around at Tony. 'I'm tellin' Dad what you two've been up to if you don't tell me.'

'Me and Billy just 'ad a bit of a fall out.'

'You reckon I'm acceptin' that as an answer?'

'Tony said it was my fault 'e didn't 'ave a girlfriend,' Billy said.

'It isn't your fault Tony isn't gettin' any,' she reassured him.

'No, that's right. It's yours,' Tony said.

'I'm seventeen bloody years old! Yer can't expect me to share with me little brother.'

'Yeah, but I'm twenty.'

'Yer also a boy. Weirdly enough, I'm not.'

Tony took a sip of his tea, glaring at Hannah over the top of his mug. 'It's Billy and I, anyway.'

'What?'

'You said me and Billy. It's Billy and I.'

'Fuck off!'

They started to argue, loudly. This was what woke Jackie up. Billy desperately tried shushing them both, but they ignored him. Jackie appeared at the window in the door, with sticking up hair and without a shirt. 'Oi!' he said, trying to unlock the bathroom door, which Tony had locked. 'Where'd all that coal come from?'

Tony and Hannah turned to look at their dad, telling him that he was being as thick as thirty three bricks, while Billy looked frightened. He had no idea what kind of trouble he would get in to with his dad. Maybe he could say Hannah and Tony forced him into it... 'Where'd yer think?' Tony said.

'Home stores, man,' Hannah said. 'We're out of milk.' Jackie looked confused, and went away from the door. After a few moments, Billy started to giggle. Hannah and Tony joined in, differences forgotten. They were still three kids really, all in it together, looking after each other.

They sat there laughing for ages. It wasn't very funny, but it felt good to laugh together. They hadn't done it in such a long time. Hannah laughed so hard, she started to lean into the bath. Billy had the sudden urge to splash water over her. He regretted it immediately, guessing that he'd just messed up the whole moment. It wasn't until Hannah started to laugh, and splashed Tony that he breathed a sigh of relief. He was going to be OK. He had to be. He had Hannah and Tony for siblings.

**A/N OK, so, I know this was soppy. But kind of sweet, yeah? Anyway, leave just, a word, or something, so I know you've at least read it. It doesn't have to be anything special. The more reviews, the more I write...? Actually, I don't think that's true. To anyone that watches The Voice, does anyone else want a copy of ****_She's a Lady_**** by the LB guy? I need a copy of it!**


	5. Chapter 5

The following day, Debbie decided that what the exhausted Billy needed was to be followed home. She was kept behind for ten minutes in school, which should have given Billy time to escape, but he didn't realise what was in store for him. So instead, he ambled home thoughtfully, kicking the grass underneath his feet. Debbie's arrival took him completely by surprise.

'Billy!' she called, tripping over her Clarks shoes to get to him.

'Hi, Debbie.' He stopped by some black railings, resigning himself to his fate.

'I saw you boxin'.'

'I know.'

'You were crap.'

Billy scowled. He didn't want a little girl, who was a good few years younger than him, managing to annoy him so much. 'I just was caught by surprise, is all.'

'D'you want an ice bun?'

Billy did want an ice bun, but he also didn't want to give Debbie the satisfaction. But he also really wanted an ice bun. 'Go on, then,' he said, trying to make it look like he wasn't interested. He took a big bite out of the bun, savouring the sugary icing melting in his mouth.

'D'you wanna see some ballet?'

Billy wasn't so sure he did, but if it took time, then it meant he would get home later. 'Go on then.' He was quite interested as to what ballet consisted of, anyway.

Debbie stood on top of the railings, clasped her hands high above her head, and put the flat of her foot against her knees. Billy pulled a face. 'That's ballet?

'It takes loads a' practice.'

'Looks shit.' It did, too. Every picture of a ballerina he had seen were beautiful, with curved arms and legs, looking really elegant, and standing on top of their toes. Debbi was all straight, and everything seemed to be sticking out everywhere.

'You try it then.' No way was Billy attempting that, making himself look like a dick head.

'Nah, yer alright.'

Debbie jumped down, and Billy edged away from her. 'Me mam says I'm doin' very well indeed.'

'What does she know?' he asked, gulping down the last bit of bun.

'She's the teacher.'

'What, yer mam?'

'Yeah.' Billy vaguely remembered Hannah mentioning something about Mrs Wilkinson's daughter going to the dance class, but he hadn't realised it was Debbie. 'What does your mam do, then?'

'Nought.'

'She must do somethin'.'

'She's dead.' Debbie didn't know what to say, so she said the first thing that came in to her head.

'What was she like?'

'Like a mam.'

'D'yer miss 'er?''

'Sorta.' Billy started to walk away. Debbie hadn't realised that it might have made Billy slightly upset to talk about his mother.

'Where're you goin'?'

'Home.'

Debbie went after him. 'Wait for me!' Billy sighed heavily.

Five minutes later, they were walking along the pavement, Debbie pulling a stick across the wall as they went. Debbie was still determined to get Billy to go to the dance class. 'Plen'y a' boys do ballet, y'know.'

'D'they know,' he said, obviously not believing her. 'What boys do ballet?'

'No one round here, but plenty a' men do.'

Billy labelled them as poofs.

'Not necessarily poofs.'

''o, like?'

'Watta 'bout that Wayne Sleep, 'e's not a poof.'

'Oh?'

''e's as fit as an athelete.'

'Ah, bet 'e couldn't beat Davey Thompson.' No one could beat Davey Thompson.

'Maybes not in a race, but in stamina. Will you come, then?' she asked, as they stopped by a washing up powder advert.

'Can't. Gotta go to boxin', 'aven' I?' he said doubtfully. He crossed the road, leaving Debbie where she was.

'See yer round,' she said after him.

'Aye,' he said without turning around. 'Tara.

Billy was confused as to whether he should go or not. He walked in to the living room, still pondering, where Hannah was playing the piano. 'Mrs Wilkinson's lookin' forward to seein' you on Saturday.' That's settled it, he decided. He would go.

On the Saturday morning in question, he went in his boxing things, but put his ballet shoes down his shorts. Over breakfast, he expected something from Hannah; a kick on the shin, a wink, a comment that would have made no sense to anyone other than him. But she didn't. There was absolutely no sign that anything was going on other than the average Saturday. She was winding up Jackie and Tony, cooking everyone breakfast, tapping fingering on the the table top, singing loudly, and doing homework, all at the same time. On the way to the social, she said nothing. When he went to the changing rooms, as if he was going to change into his boxing stuff, she gave him no reaction. It was only when he followed the girls into the ballet hall in his ballet shoes that she gave him a quick smile, before warming up her fingers with scales. Billy couldn't work out for the life of him why she had acted as if nothing was up.

Billy hated to admit it, but ballet was harder than it looked. It was tough work. He kept trying to imitate what the other girls were doing, but as soon as he'd worked out what he was doing with his arms and legs, they'd moved on to the next move, and he'd be yet another step behind.

After fifteen minutes, he finally struggled out of the group to mutter to Mrs Wilkinson, 'Dunno whatta do, Miss.'

'Follow the others,' she said to him, then, 'Shut up, Debbie!' who was giggling at Billy. He looked back doubtfully at the girls. 'Go on, then,' she said to him. He dodged flailing arms and sharp nails back to his space.

Afterwards, he was knackered, but he felt fantastic; they had moved on to doing slow barre work, which he could do better than anyone else. His arms and legs were aching, and his sweaty vest was clinging to him, but he felt on top of the world. That was one of Hannah's phrases. Whenever she wanted to describe feeling great, she would say On Top of the World, then she would start singing. Improvising, she called it.

Billy liked it when Hannah would sing. She could sing really low, like a man, and she could sing really, really high as well. She just repeated I'm just on top of the world, on top of the world. She would sing, 'I'm on top of wo-o-rld, I'm on top of the world,' and so on, until she got shouted at by Tony or Jackie. Now she was playing something called the Fingerbreaker, which was what she called, a high speed piece. Hannah had practised it for nearly a year, and Billy would lie on the sofa and listen to the piece slowly come together, until she could finally play it perfectly. It was wicked to listen to the process.

The only word Billy could think of to describe how he was feeling was "exhilarated". It was a word Hannah used to make herself sound clever. The adrenaline kept going, right up to the point that he was changing his top, and Debbie was making him uncomfortable by sitting and watching him. He was seated on the bench, in the corner of the hall. He could still hear Hannah playing.

'See. I told yer it takes loads a' practice,' she finally said. Billy was sure if that was what she had really been thinking about.

Before he could reply, Mrs Wilkinson had appeared. 'Debbie,' she said. She was trying to warn her daughter about something, Billy could tell by the tone of her voice. But he wasn't sure what.

'What, Mam?'

Mrs Wilkinson rolled her eyes heavily. 'What d'yer call me?!'

'Miss.'

'Piss off.' Debbie ran away, her tutu sticking up in the air.

Once the small girl had left, Mrs Wilkinson said, 'So. Will we be 'avin' the pleasure of yer company next week?'

'It's just that I...' Billy tried to think of a way to describe it. 'I feel like a right sissy.'

'Well, don't act like one, fifty p, please.' Billy reluctantly took the fifty p he was supposed to spend on boxing out of his bag. You would have thought that, since she paid his sister to play the piano, he would at least get to go for free!

'If yer not comin' back, give us yer shoes.' The shoes. Billy and Hannah had had a big row over the shoes. He had been given them the week before by Mrs Wilkinson, because he wasn't allowed to do them in his boxing trainers. But they were _proper_ ballet shoes, with ribbons and everything, so when they both arrived home, he immediately tried throwing them away, and Hannah had a big go at him. In the end, he realised that he probably should wear them, even if it was only to get Hannah off his back.

The novelty had weared off by then, and he just ached. He blamed Debbie. Billy'd still be in a good mood i it weren't for her. He was about to hand them over, and forget about the whole thing. But then, he heard Hannah's music. It was a simple tune; nothing special. One she had played for years. C, then D, then two quick Fs, then an E. She had taught it to him, writing all the notes on the piano on to the keys, roughly two months after their mother passed away. For some reason, it reminded him of good things, not awful. It made him think of the pros of dancing, rather than the cons. He let out a small sigh, wondering whether what he was doing was a mistake.

'Nah. Yer right.'

She was about to say something different, but at that precise moment, Hannah was at Billy's side. 'All right, Billy? Yer gonna need a place to 'ide those. I reckon it's time to go. Mrs Wilkinson?' she said, as quick as a shot.

'Yer beggin' me fer money?'

'Everyone's gotta earn their bread.' Mrs Wilkinson gave a sort of laugh, the first one Billy had heard from her. Mrs Wilkinson pressed a fiver into Hannah's hand.

Billy raised his eyebrows. Hannah must have had a tidy sum of money if that was what she was getting every week. Hannah shoved him as they walked out, making him topple over. 'What?!' he cried. 'Whatt'ave I done?'

'Yer didn't need to pull that face. It was embarassin'.'

'You're embarassin'. You were bein' really cheeky!'

'Fuck off, you're the cheeky one!'

'You fuck off!'

'Poof.'

'Virgin.'

That one made Hannah laugh. 'What d'you know?'

'I 'eard Tony talkin' 'bout it, yesterday.'

'Tony schmony. What does 'e know, for that matter?'

Billy paused. 'So 'ave you?'

Hannah wiggled her eyebrows at him. ''ave you, you horny bastard?'

Billy went red, which made Hannah laugh more. ''o 'ave you got yer cheeky eye on, then?'

'No one!'

'Watta 'bout that Debbie lass? You spend alotta time with 'er, don't you?'

Billy pulled a face. 'Debbie?! No way!'

'Or maybe you bat for the other team? Watta 'bout Michael, eh?'

'Michael?'

'Yeah.' Billy missed a beat; not because fancied Michael, but the thought suddenly came into his head that Michael might 'bat for the other team'.

Hannah grinned. 'You 'ad no idea?'

Billy gave a small shake of his head, and Hannah pulled him into a one armed hug. 'Sorry, love. I thought you knew.'

Billy pushed her away again, which made her giggle. 'I didn't realise you were such a dipstick that you didn't realise.' He didn't react. He needed to hear it from the horse's mouth.

_**Thanks for everyone's lovely support. This is the fifth chapter, and I have ten reviews. The last story, I had posted eight chapters, and I only had three. Turns out that re-writing it wasn't such a shabby idea! Just one question for PurpleRabbit- why don't you log in, so I can reply to your reviews?**_


	6. Chapter 6

But the first thing Billy needed to do was to follow Hannah's advice, and hide his shoes. He shuddered to think what would happen if his dad found them.

As soon as he and his sister got in, Hannah sat down with a cup of tea and a book, and Billy crept away. He didn't want even Hannah knowing. He decided that, after all the spy comic books he'd read, it was safer that not a soul should know. Just before he went into his room, he glanced behind him, to check all was clear.

He then threw off the top mattress, and all the sheets, from his bed. He put his shoes carefully in the centre of the bottom mattress. He was on the verge of making his bed, when his dad appeared at the door. He instantly covered the ballet shoes with his body.

'What's this?' Jackie said, gesturing towards the bedclothes on the floor.

'Nought.'

Jackie pulled a face at him. 'What're yer doin'?'

Billy had to think quickly. 'I forgot me gloves!' he said, looking over the end of his bed, pretending to look for the gloves, when he knew very well that they were on his bedside table. His dad looked at him, then at the bedside table, then back at him. Billy turned around.

'Oh.' Jackie stared at him, waiting for him to get up, but Billy didn't budge. After a few moments of awkward silence, Billy glanced over the other side of the bed (the one without the mattress and pillow and sheets), and picked up a comic. His dad couldn't tear his eyes away from his _strange _son. His eldest was a model miner; he liked his beer, his girls, he was macho, he was a champion boxer, he hated his dad, and he bullied his younger siblings. Hannah wasn't a model child-of-a-miner exactly, but she was better than Billy.

Billy was a terrible boxer, he wasn't interested in football or any other sports, he didn't appear to wank at all (Jackie was certain that that was what eleven-year old boys did in their spare time), he couldn't concentrate on anything, he enjoyed listening to Hannah singing and practising as much as he enjoyed listening to T-Rex, and, most importantly, he had just picked up Hannah's A-Level maths revision book from the floor, and started reading it upside down.

Billy lay on the tin roof of somebody's house. The roof was burning his back (it was, for once, sunny in the north of England) as he tapped his foot in time to the man playing the tuba in the house below. The tips of his untidy hair were touching the tips of Michael's. 'Are yer sure yer not goin' to come?'

'Where?'

'To boxin'.'

'Am I fuck. It's a right load of old bollocks.'

'No, it's not!' Billy didn't know what he was doing. He knew Michael would never agree to go to boxing, so perhaps it was some sort... trick? Something to stop Michael from getting the wrong (right) idea? He didn't know. He just knew that now he'd started, it was too late to turn back.

'It's all shite. Kickin' people and that Anyway, I dunno why you bovaah.'

'I'm good at it!'

'Ah, yer shite. Look at yer gloves, eh, they went out with Noah and the ark.'

'They're me dad's!'

'Exactly.'

Billy scowled. He may have hated boxing, but that didn't mean he had to appreciate Michael being nasty. He was an OK boxer!

He sat up, hugged his knees and gazed at his small, boring, northern town. Rows and rows of terraced houses. A scrap of muddy green here and there. If he turned his head slightly, he could see the picket line, and where the screaming miners should be. But they weren't, because it was half past four on a Wednesday afternoon.

'Michael?'

'What?'

'Why're the miners on strike, like?'

'Cause o' Maggie Thatcher, innit?'

'Oh.' Billy thought about it for a moment, then realised he still didn't understand. 'What's she done, like?'

'I dunno! Why should I know?'

The man playing the tuba below slammed his hand on the roof of his house. 'Oi! Get out! We're tryin' to practise, orright?'

Michael stood up. 'Come on, Billy.'

Before Billy knew it, Saturday morning had come around again. It was the usual rush. He was sat at the piano, trying to practise, while his brother and dad shouted at each other, and Hannah watched, lying on the sofa, trying to revise for a test. 'Come on, Dad,' Tony said. 'We'll be late, man!'

'There's not much coal left,' Jackie tutted, trying to warm the house up. The sunny spell in Everington had disappeared pretty quickly, only to be replaced by biting winds and endless sheets of rain crashing down on the helpless miners.

Jackie and Tony had a date at the picket line, and Tony was getting panicked. 'It's fine!' he said. 'We'll be diggin' it up again next month, anyway.' Hannah snorted. 'What?!' Tony shouted.

'Nothin', love. Just dunno why yer bein' so confident.'

'Y'know, you would say that, wouldn't yer?'

'I dunno. Would I?'

'I knew this was gonna 'appen!'

Hannah sat up, raised her eyebrow, and gave Tony a withering look, that always made Billy get rose-tinted cheeks, and for his argument to shrivel up and die. He could see that it was affecting Tony a little as well, though he was trying his best to ignore the squabbling siblings. He hated it when they would fight.

'What was gonna 'appen, eh?'

Tony was pulling his coat on, but stopped, and locked eyes with Hannah. Jackie and Billy couldn't help but watch with interest. Billy thought he could see Hannah's expression alter for a brief moment, before hardening again. She looked almost frightened in that moment. He began to wonder how much of how Hannah acted was genuine, and how much was an act to fool Tony.

'I knew that once you got all smart and that, you'd turn into a little Thatcher bastard,' he said slowly, through gritted teeth. This threw Hannah a bit. She didn't know how to reply, which gave Tony the time to say, 'I'll see yer down the picket line, Dad,' and slam the door on his way out. Hannah looked ruffled.

'Are you alright, Hannah?' Jackie asked softly. Hannah didn't say anything. She sat in the same position, until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she muttered something. 'What was that?' Jackie asked.

'Tell Mrs Wilkinson I'm ill,' she said, then rushed upstairs. Jackie sighed.

'Can I 'ave my fifty p now, please?'

Hannah couldn't believe that something _Tony, _of all people, had said had affected her so profoundly. She curled up on her bed, clutching her stomach, letting the tears stream down her face. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at her depressing little room; a small, saggy, single bed: a bookshelf, full of books she'd stolen from the library, or found for 25p in various charity shops, whenever she managed to go round Newcastle: a chest of drawers with clothes that labelled her as _working class_ inside: and yellowing curtains over windows that let a draft in.

That was why she was working so hard. She was so desperate to get out of Everington. She would die before being a simple, unimportant wife of a miner. She was going to go to London, and do something amazing with her life. But she didn't even have to do something amazing; just something better than what was expected of her. She wanted to be able to one day get on a bus out of Everington, and move to a better, far more interesting life, with people who had gone to Oxford and Cambridge, and to have a boyfriend who took her to various symphony concerts, or art exhibitions.

Or perhaps she would like to live in a funky flat, or "pad", going to jazz bars, and hang out with people who wear sexy clothes, with a similar passion for the sweet, sweet sound of _jaaazz_.

But, while she wanted it desperately, she didn't want to have to do it while leaving everything she knew, and everyone she loved. And she certainly didn't want to do if it involved becoming a Tory. She really wasn't right wing, and was terrified she wouldn't stay like that. Maybe she should just stay in Durham. Everything might be easier that way...

She opened her eyes, and stared at her room. She couldn't stay here! She closed them again, and rolled over, sniffing hard, and feeling rather pathetic.

Billy told Mrs Wilkinson that Hannah was will, and Mrs Wilkinson looked worried for a split second. But she then made her face the usual mask that Billy couldn't read. 'God,' she tutted. 'We'll 'ave to start arabesques a week early, then.'

'What's arabesques then, Miss?' She didn't reply.

'Come on then, girls, warm exercises, please, and into the centre. You too, Billy.'

She demonstrated arabesques on Billy. He had to keep his chin up, look beyond his fingertips, keep his right foot in first, lift his left leg off the floor, not too much, mind, or he'd topple over, make sure his legs weren't trembling, and keep them straight, and he had to ensure his left foot was pointed. Not a problem.

And the nice thing was that he could sort of do it. He vowed to practice it when he was at home.

After they'd practiced arabesques for ten minutes, Mrs Wilkinson realised she couldn't teach Billy what she was teaching the girls. It was too feminine, and immature.

She decided to, instead of rehearse their Easter show, which was going to be shit anyway, teach them pirouettes. It was way beyond what most of them were capable of, but it might challenge Billy, who was now her priority.

'Spin it, now spin yerselves around!' she yelled. 'Look at yerselves, look at the mirrer!'

But it was utterly hopeless. Billy couldn't do it. Forget the technique, every time he lifted one leg, and threw himself around, he would only come crashing to the floor. The only encouraging words Mrs Wilkinson gave him were, 'Practice, all it takes is practice.'

On his way home, he stopped off at the library. He looked left and right, to make sure no one saw him go in, but he found the exact book he wanted nearly immediately. A large, pink book stuck out of the shelves, with descriptions and pictures of various ballet steps. He opened it, and began to skim through.

'Dunno why yer lookin' at that,' a voice behind him said. It was the librarian. 'Yer can't take it out on a junior ticket.'

Billy sighed, and put the book back. Typical. But, as if on cue, there was shouting behind the librarian, from outside. She stared out of the window as a rogue miner flashed his bum at a policeman, and ran away. Billy took his chance, and stuffed the book down the back of his jeans.

'See yer then,' he said, walking out.

_**OK, so I have a dilemma. I haven't decided on an ending for the story, and I was wondering whether any of you care enough to help me. I don't know whether to give Hannah a happy ending, thus following the anyone-can-do-anything moral of the story, or have a sharp dose of reality, and make it all go tits-up for her. Or maybe have some sort of compromise? I dunno. If you could tell me in the reviews. Thanks! **_


	7. Chapter 7

Once he was home, he planned to immediately lock himself in the bathroom, and practise. But unfortunately, while Hannah didn't seem upset anymore, she was still grumpy, and Jackie and Tony had had a bad day at the picket line. So he was being shouted at, and given chores to do, right up until he pulled the sheets up around his shoulders.

The first chance he got to practise was the next evening, Sunday bath night. He locked himself in, surprising everyone by volunteering to have an early bath. He ran the taps, making it sound like he was preparing for bed, and propped the book up on the shelf above the sink. He looked carefully at the book and copied the positions, scrutinising what he was doing in the mirror.

It all went very well, until he put his leg too high in the air, and fell over. 'Oi! What's goin' on?' his dad shouted.

'Nothing!' Billy insisted, clutching his hand, which he'd hit on his way down, and swearing silently.

But it didn't take him long to perfect it, and then he moved on to pirouettes. The first attempt at it, he hit his poor hand again, on the cup with toothbrushes and toothpaste, knocking it over. 'Arrgh!'

The second time he attempted it, he faced the larger mirror above the bath. He stared at himself very hard, made sure his balance was right, then spun around. But, of course, he lost his balance, and fell into the bath. He still had his shoes on, for fuck's sake!

But he decided that it counted as his bath, so he peeled off his wet clothes, stuffed them into the bottom of the washing basket, dried himself off, and carried on to practice ballet- but forgetting about the pirouettes.

By the time Tony was banging on the door, and shouting at him to get out, his damp skin was still damp under his pyjamas, but he was sweating, and he was very flushed. 'Gettout!' his brother yelled, resorting to kicking the door. Billy took the book off the shelf, and hid it behind his back as he edged out of the bathroom.

'What've you got there?' Tony asked.

'Nothin',' Billy replied quickly.

'You 'aven't been wankin', 'ave yer?'

'No.'

'That isn't porn?'

'No!'

Tony tried to grab the book, but Billy jumped out of his grasp. Fortunately for the improving dancer, who wasn't going to be happy if his dreams were dashed by a stupid mistake, his sister pushed past both of them suddenly, into the bathroom, giggling, and locking herself in. Billy escaped, as Tony had to start attacking the door again, trying to frighten Hannah out.

Billy continued to practice and perfect his pirouette for the rest of the week, wherever he could. In his bedroom (when Tony was out, obviously) in the back yard when he was meant to be doing the washing, behind under the bridge when he was meant to be at school, anywhere at all. He practised it so hard, he would have been devastated if it had gone wrong.

Finally, after much anticipation by a particular young boy, Saturday came around. There was no trouble before Hannah and Billy left, and both walked to the boxing hall with a spring in their step.

Even after all the lost sleep over it, he thought it was fine. It was a little wonky, and he very nearly overbalanced, but he was still pleased with it. So it was understandably that his face fell when all Mrs Wilkinson had to say to him was, 'What've I told yer 'bout that arm?'

He was disappointed, to say the least. All that effort he put in, for one measly, unhelpful comment, that he was reprimanding himself for anyway! He scowled, and scuffed his feet against the polished floor. But Mrs Wilkinson, as she walked behind the girls, shepherding them along to the barre, turned her head and gave him a quick wink. He couldn't help but smirk happily to himself. Beat that, Debbie!

He was slightly pink, and still smiling smugly, when a girl came up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around. She was someone he vaguely recognised, but he wasn't entirely certain of her name, and she was about a foot smaller than him. 'What?'

'You look like a right wanker to me, mate.' Billy was amazed. What just happened. Had a tiny girl just used Tony's favourite nickname for him, offended him, and called him a mate, all in the same sentence? He had no idea.

Meanwhile, Jackie was 'down the picket line', as he so fondly called it. His old friend, George, the boxing instructor, whom he hadn't seen for a while, pushed himself to the front of the crowd, where Jackie was. The jostling and shouting had stopped for a minute, while miners&co. waited for a bus to drive past.

'Look, Jackie, it's just fifty pence, ya know. I can do without it, I dunnae do it for the money.'

Jackie frowned. 'What're you talkin' about?'

'The boxin', man. I 'aven't seen 'ide nor 'air of your Billy for weeks.'

Jackie thought George must have been out of his head, and was about to inquire further, when the bus started to edge past them, and everyone began to push and shove, scream and shout, and throw various household items at the bus.

That afternoon, Jackie and Tony went out to do the grocery shopping. Jackie went because he was the man with the money, and Tony went because he believed they were the master of the house; thus, it was his responsibility to make sure food was available at all time.

The young man was happily chucking all sort of foodstuffs into the trolley, until Jackie realised what he was doing, and slapped his wrist. 'Oi! Stick to the list, OK?'

'A few bits of bacon won't 'urt no one,' Tony replied, putting them back in the trolley. Jackie picked the packet up angrily, replacing it.

'It will! There's no money left,' he said, storming away to find the milk, wondering whether it was worth getting two bottles. Tony followed him.

'What d'yer mean there's nothin' left?' he asked in a hushed, angry whisper.

'We ran out of money a few weeks ago.' He said, looking at various cans of food.

'What've we been usin'?'

'Grandma's money.' Tony's eyes widened, snatching the can out of his dad's hands, and putting it back on the shelf.

'That's the money for me and Billy and Hannah!'

'What d'you think I've been spending it on?'

Tony took the bacon back and, glancing around, stuffed it down his trousers. Jackie pretended not to notice, and double checked his list before going to the till.

While the shopkeeper scanned the purchases, Jackie said, ''ave you noticed anythin' weird about our Billy lately?'

Tony was still in a bad mood. 'What're you after? Like, a list?'

'Never mind.' The shopkeeper gave them the bag with their groceries. 'Thanks very much,' said Jackie politely. 'C'mon, Tony.'

While Tony and Jackie were shopping, and Billy was dreaming happily in his room about... Something (Hannah wasn't entirely sure what her brother dreamt about), Hannah was taking Grandma to the grave yard, to see their mother/daughter's grave.

Somehow, Hannah got the feeling Grandma had caught wind of Billy's little hobby. She refused to stop wittering on about how she could have been a professional dancer, if she'd had the right training. Hannah had never heard of this before; she knew Grandma had taken the ballet classes at the Social, and her mum was meant to have taken over once she was old enough, but her mum had always liked the of the piano, and didn't enjoy ballrt.

So, the honours were passed on to Sandra Wilkinson instead, while the ancient piano player taught Susan Thompson to play, so she could take over when he kicked the bucket.

Susan and Sandra grew closer as they got older, even if Sandra was from the middle class end of the village, and married a man mostly because of his money (she was adamant that she did love him, but Susan was unsure), while Susan definitely lived in the working class end, came from a simple mining family, and married into a simple mining family. And who was the happiest out if the two?

Billy was too young to remember any if this; Susan died when he was seven. But Hannah was fourteen at the time, and rembered their friendship very clearly, which was partly why she got on so well with Mrs Wilkinson.

She liked to think that Mrs Wilkinson had become grumpy when Susan died, although she knew it was really because her husband had cheated on her (Hannah had quite sharp ears when she wanted to). Although, her mum had been in the middle of helping Sandra when she was diagnosed, so perhaps she would be nicer if she'd had her best friend to help her.

Hannah was pulled out of her thoughts when Grandma stopped talking, and started to do a little bit of ballet where she stood. Not only was Hannah in a hurry to get to her mum's grave; she was also worried that Grandma, which a) might finish the old woman off, and b) might be the end of Hannah. She couldn't imagine what would happen to her if Grandma dies on her watch.

She grabbed her grandmother's wrist, and dragged her along. 'Come on, Grandma.'

Letting go of Grandma's wrist, she started to run towards the grave, holding the bunch of flowers she'd picked up from the newsagents tight in her hand, not realising that she was scrunching them up.

When she knelt at the grave she realised, and spent a few minutes trying to make them perfect again. When she couldn't, she sighed, and propped them up against the grave.

She then continued to go on and try to rub off the graffiti that the local gang had spray painted on one night. She knew the lads- a few of them had been in school with her- and she made a vow to avenge the poor grave.

Spitting on her sleeve to dampen it, she scrubbed the grave, until her eyes tricked her into thinking it was beginning to fade. She blinked, and groaned. It was utterly hopeless. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and looked for Grandma.

Grandma was standing on the other side of the cemetery, talking to a different grave. 'Grandma!' she shouted. 'Grandma! We're over 'ere! Grandma!'


	8. Chapter 8

Billy groaned under his breath. It was the last lesson before PE; not exactly Billy's favourite lesson. To make it worse, they were doing cross country running. It involved running out of the village, doing a whole circuit of the outskirts, through thin forests and fields. It was a favourite torture of their PE teacher, one that the twenty-odd boys had to endure weekly.

But fortunately, Billy and Michael had devised a different route, a much shorter route, under the bridge. They would simply wait there for half an hour or so, listening out for the rest of the class to run over the bridge again, and then running up to join the back of the class. The PE teacher would never notice if two of the boys went missing, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't care, and even if he did, it was a sight better than running.

Billy told Michael about his ballet once they had snuck away. Thankfully, Michael was fine with it. In fact, he didn't seem shocked, or even mildly surprised. Billy wasn't sure if he should be relieved, or offended.

'So, you go to ballet lessons every week?' Michael shouted over the sound of the fast running water as they scrambled around the edges of the river, under the bridge.

'Yeah,' Billy said, crossly. 'But don't say out!'

'D'yer get to wear a tutu?' This was such a typically Michael question, Billy nearly laughed. But instead, he scowled. What was Michael trying to imply?!

'No!'

'I was just askin'.'

Billy felt bad. It was true. He was only asking. 'Nah, I wear me shorts.'

'Will yer get to wear a tutu?' Michael asked hopefully.

'Fuck off!' Michael was really irritating him.

'That's a pity.' Billy was splashing through the river water, but stopped when Michael said this.

'What?'

'You'd look wicked in a tutu, I reckon.'

Billy stared at him for a moment. Michael stared back. 'C'mon,' he said finally, uncertainly.

Jackie decided to investigate further into his son's strange behaviour. He watched him carefully over dinner, and when Hannah was helping him with his homework. He seemed the same as usually- only, he seemed the way he had before Jackie's wife had died. More chatty, smiling more, making jokes with Hannah.

Hannah and Billy seemed to be growing closer as well. It would usually take a lot of prompting to get Hannah to help Billy with his homework, or teach him the piano. But she had started to do it without anyone but Billy asking her to. And there was some sort of secret joke between them.. Their eyes only had to meet, and Hannah to wiggle her eyebrows, for them both to be in uncontrollable giggles.

Jackie knew he probably shouldn't interfere with whatever had put his son in such a good mood, but being an only father, and knowing bringing up Billy was completely down to him, without being able to blame whatever he turned out to be on anyone else, he felt the need to be inquisitive. He was curious, anyway.

So the following Saturday, Jackie went down to the Social, maybe three quarters of an hour after Hannah and Billy had left. He wondered whether Billy had been playing down how well he'd been doing in boxing, and that was why he was in such a good mood. Maybe George and Billy were in some sort of conspiracy? He knew it was unlikely, but he certainly thought it was more likely than what he was faced with.

But when he arrived at the boxing hall, he couldn't see Billy. When he asked a few boys, they all said they thought he had been going upstairs with Hannah for ages. Perhaps he was learning to play the pieces for the ballet class, since Hannah was supposed to be going to university in a few months.

He didn't believe it until he pulled open the huge, heavy doors, and saw Billy dancing with the girls. 'One, two, three, pas de baure, and a one, two, three, pas de baure, and a turn-'

He interrupted Mrs Wilkinson with the creaking doors. Billy hadn't seen him, and when he did, he completely froze. Hannah's music sputtered out as she realised what was going on. She turned a deep crimson. The girls began to snigger.

'You! Out! Now!' he yelled at Billy. Billy didn't move a muscle.

'I beg your pardon?' Mrs Wilkinson said incredulously. How dare someone interrupt her ballet lesson?!

'And you,' he shouted at Hannah.

Neither of his children had shifted, until he raised his hand, threatening to hit one of them. Billy flinched, and Mrs Wilkinson took a step towards him. 'No, please, Miss!' Hannah and Billy said urgently. 'Don't,' Hannah sighed heavily, and got up, going towards her dad. Billy followed suit.

He grabbed hold of both of their wrists, squeezing them tight. Billy tried to have one last look at the ballet class, but Jackie let go of Hannah's wrist to grab hold of Billy's head, making it face the right way.

Jackie used his favourite form of torture. He was utterly silent the entire way home, letting the children's mind do the imagining for him. Actually, Hannah was unsuprisingly calm. There wasn't a lot Jackie could do to her- at all. She was leaving home within half a year. He could ground her, ban her from going to help Mrs Wilkinson, and if she'd really done something terrible, he could even try and stop her from getting a degree. He doubted he could stop her, anyway.

Billy, however... Jackie didn't know what to do to punish him. Perhaps a few stern words would put him in his place? He wasn't as much of a free spirit as his sister, and Jackie thought he was much more likely to conform. Jackie would, after all, be doing his son a favour, no matter what he might think. Billy would completely regret it if he continued to dance.

He didn't say a single word until he'd shoved Billy into a chair, and sat opposite him. Hannah leaned against the kitchen sink, behind Grandma, who was eating a pork pie. 'What were yer doin', eh?'

Billy pulled a face. 'Goin' to ballet.'

'Oh yeah? I've been bustin' mah arse for those fifty pences, and you...' His accent became more Scottish as he got angrier. 'No. From now on you stay here, and you look after yer Nana. Got eht?'

'What're 'bout 'annah?' A heavy sigh came from the corner of the room.

'She's done nothin' wrong.'

'Neither 'ave I!'

'Why couldn't you 'ave done football, or boxin', or... Wrestlin'?' he started to raise his voice, but tried to calm down.

Hannah had remained silent, but now she spoke. 'What lads do wrestlin'?'

'Don't start, Hannah,' Jackie said, softly.

'I don't see what's wrong with it!' Billy said, his voice becoming higher pitched.

'Why did you 'ave to start ballet, Billy? Why couldn't you 'ave done somethin' more normal?'

'I used to do ballet,' Grandma said, helpfully contributing to the conversation. Hannah put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

'Shh, Grandma.'

'I don't see what's wrong with it!' Billy nearly shrieked.

'Yes you do.'

'No, actually. I don't,' he sulked, having calmed down when Hannah raised her eyebrows at him.

'Yes, you bloody well do. Who d'ya think I am?' Billy refused to meet his eye. 'You know quite nicely.'

Grandma was still muddled, picking at her pork pie. 'They said I could've been a professional if I'd 'ad the trainin'.'

As Hannah put more pressure onto Grandma's shoulder, shh-ing her gently, Jackie slammed a closed fist on the table, making everything on the table, including the people sitting at it, shake. 'Will you shut up?!' he yelled.

Billy glared at his dad. What had gotten into him? Was ruining Billy's life not enough? Must he scare poor, bewildered Grandma as well? 'I 'ate you,' he said. 'You're a bastard!'

Grandma and Hannah watched carefully with some sort of sick fascination. After a moment of silence that had fallen like a cool blanket over the room, both males jumped up at the same time.

Billy tried to desperately run away, but Jackie grabbed hold of his son's collar, and slammed him against the door of the bottom of the stairs. 'Gerroff!' Billy shouted, and struggled out of Jackie's grasp. Hannah was trying to pull Jackie away as well, but unfortunately, playing the piano didn't even make your fingers very strong, let alone the rest of you.

The young boy sprinted out of the house, and carried on running. His fury gave him enough energy to keep him running for hours. As he ran out of the house, he could hear his entire family scream at him to come back.

How could he have been so thick as to have let himself get attached to dancing? Thinking about not going every Saturday made him want to throw up. If he had never discovered such a brilliant waste of his time, he never would have got himself into this mess.

It was all Hannah's fault. If she hadn't encouraged him to go, he probably wouldn't have stuck at it.

But he knew that wasn't true. Hannah or no Hannah, he still would be in the situation his was in now.

It was all his dad's fault, then. If he would stop being so imbecilic, he would be able to carry on with ballet, without any of this fuss.

Really, though, he knew it was his fault. He never should have allowed himself to go in the first place, let alone convince himself it would be fine every single week. He should have stopped, and prevented this from being the sticky end to his dancing career.


	9. Chapter 9

Days later, the mood was still frosty in the Elliot household. Billy thought Hannah might be guilty, which was an unusual state of mind for her. She refused to meet his eye, and just locked herself up in her room 24/7. Jackie was still furious with him, and nobody would tell Tony what was going on, so he was unhappy as well.

Billy was tidying his and his brother's room, when he came across a stack of magazines underneath Tony's bed. He didn't know what they were, but was curious, so he pulled his head out from underneath the bed, and then, when he was sure there was no one in the room, spying on him, he dragged them out. He saw what they were, and sat on the bed, studying them.

Hannah ran her hand through her hair, and sighed. She needed to borrow (steal) a notebook from Billy and Tony, which she knew was in their room, because she'd run out of pages in her's. But it involved actually standing up, moving her legs, going into their room, and confronting Billy. She knew he was in there, because she was the one who'd had the deciding vote on whether Billy should tidy his room or not. She had muttered something indecipherable, and sloped into her room. Tony swore blind (literally) that Hannah had said Billy should tidy his room. It had nearly ended with a fist fight between the two brothers, before Billy relented, and followed Hannah up the stairs.

She pulled her hair back, looked for something to tie it with, and then, when she found nothing, let it fall around her face again. Then she stood up, moved her legs, went into Billy's room, and confronted Billy.

If she wanted to, Hannah could be a very quiet mover, and she wanted to have the element of surprise. She crept into his room without alerting him of her presence. The door was open, so there was no need to have to open that, which was a relief.

She saw that he was sitting on Tony's bed, which was slightly unusual. Why not just sit on his own? Raising her hand to tap him on the shoulder, and give him a fright, she glanced at a pile of magazines next to him on the bed. She let out a small gasp, and a giggle. Billy yelled, and nearly fell off the bed.

Hannah toppled backwards from laughing, onto Billy's bed, after having seen his face. It was bright red (Hannah couldn't work out if it was from the magazines, or humiliation) and the expression went from shock, to guilty, to angry, all in the space of a few seconds. 'What're you doin' in 'ere, 'anna?!'

She couldn't reply. She could only clutch her stomach as she began to cry with laughter. Billy! Reading porn! It was too much for her. Eventually, she began to calm down. Billy tried to insert some authority by folding his arms, and standing up straighter. 'What're you readin'?' she asked, wiping her eyes. All the blood rushed to Billy's face again.

'Nothin'.'

'It was obviously somethin'!' She grabbed hold of one, took one look at it, and started to laugh again. 'What's this then?'

'It's Tony's!'

'Well, I know that, pet. I didn't think even Mr Williams would sell an eleven year old this, much less you!' Mr Williams owned the local newsagents, and was known for selling under age drinkers beers, or cigarettes, for the right amount of money.

'Why wouldn't 'e sell it to me, then? Why much less me?'

She stuck her tongue out at him. 'Because you've got Jackie Elliot fer a dad, and me fer a sister. We'd come after 'im with carvin' knives! Anyway,' she carried on, before he could say another word. 'All I came in for was a notebook.'

Billy scowled at her. 'Where is it?'

'I'm not givin' it to you!'

'D'you want Dad or Tony to find out 'bout this?'

Billy went slightly paler than usual. 'No.'

'Give me the notebook, then.' Grudgingly, he grabbed the notebook from under his bed, and handed it to her.

'Piss off, now.'

'Yeah, all right, calm down.' Billy started to throw various stuffed toys at her. 'I'm goin', I'm goin'! Jesus.'

Billy related the story to Michael, the next day, when they were bunking off school. He was always slighted nervous when he skived off school, because he dread to think of what would happen to him if anyone in his family found out what he would get up to whenever he couldn't be bothered to go to school, especially considering they didn't like him a lot now. He didn't particularly care what the teachers thought. They had PE all morning, anyway, so he assumed he wouldn't be missed.

They were in their favourite spot; under the bridge. Billy splashed about in a shallow bit of the water, getting his feet and shoes wet, while Michael sat on the grass, right next to the bridge, covered up by a blanket, which he had brought along to keep warm. 'I found porn the other day.'

Billy said, moving his feet fast, like Mrs Wilkinson had taught him, and splashing water everywhere. 'Where?' Michael asked.

'Under me brother's bed.'

'What was it like?'

Billy stopped, and thought about it. 'Sort of 'airy.'

Michael frowned. 'What d'yer mean?'

'You know. Like a coconut.' Billy began to use his feet to splash Michael with the water, who squealed, and protected himself with his blanket.

Billy pretended to be happy, and OK with having stopped dancing, but in reality, he hadn't been so upset since his mum had died. After having watched Debbie play at break time for a good fifteen minutes, he decided to go and pay the Wilkinsons a visit. He asked Hannah for Mrs Wilkinson's address straight after school, which she scribbled down on a scrap of paper quickly, he went on the long walk to their house.

He got lost several times, and was convinced he was still lost when he arrived outside her house. They were detached houses, with cars in front of nearly every house. Billy was impressed, but unsure. He didn't really know Debbie was posh; not that he'd really thought about it before.

But after checking, and double checking, the address on the slip of paper, and he was nearly certain he was on the right street, and standing outside the right number, he stumbled up the path, feeling very much out of place. He knocked on the door, almost hoping that no one would be in.

However, Mrs Wilkinson, wearing her hair down for the first time as far as Billy was concerned, came to the front door. 'Oh,' she said, looking behind him to see who had brought him. 'Hello. And 'ow can I 'elp you?'

'I can't come to classes anymore, Miss.'

'He stopped yer comin' to them, didn' 'e?'

Billy knew she was referring to his father. 'It's not 'is fault, Miss.' Billy was standing up, because his dad was family, but in no way was he lying for his sake.

'And 'o's fault is it then?'

Billy had no reply.

'You should stand up to 'im.'

'You dunno what 'e's like!'

Mrs Wilkinson didn't look convinced, but turned around, inviting him in. 'Billy's 'ere!' she called into one of the rooms.

'Miss?' he asked unsurely.

'Come on, Debbie!'

Billy was asked to tea, which he more than happily accepted. He was curious as to what middle class people got up to when they were at home.

As he sat at their kitchen table, Mrs Wilkinson and Debbie laying the table and serving food around him, he watched Mr Wilkinson closely. He held a whisky in his hand, and watched a film on the TV. When he finally said something, Billy gave a little start. 'So your Durham's little Gene Kelly, are yer?'

'Yeah.'

'And yer dad worked down the pit.'

Billy agreed again. 'He must be out on strike then.'

'Yeah.' Billy was getting tired of endless, boring questions about his endless, boring life.

'Ah, the strike. If they 'ad a ballot they'd be out on the 'murrow, it's just a few bloody commies sturrin' things up.'

'Tom, stop it,' Mrs Wilkinson scolded as she set the salt and pepper.

'What d'yer mean, Mr Wilkinson?' Billy asked politely. He wanted to know what Mr Wilkinson was on about.

'Well, it stands to reason, dunnit. Some pits are just uneconomical...' he said darkly, taking another swig of his drink.

'I suppose.'

'Just a few bloody commies...'

'Oh, Tom,' Mrs Wilkinson tutted.

'What d'you do, Mr Wilkinson?'

'My dad's been made redundant,' Debbie informed him. Billy knew very well what being made redundant meant. He heard it nearly everyday, when Jackie turned the radio on. He couldn't prevent the smug smile from spreading across his face. At least his dad could still go back to his job!

After tea, Debbie led Billy into her room, where he sat on her bed, and started to mess about with her creepy doll. 'I thought 'e was gonna 'it me or somethin'!' Billy said, talking about Tom Wilkinson.

'No, he's just unhappy. Mam said that's why he gets pissed.'

Billy remained silent.

'He's always pissed. Once he pissed himself!'

'What, yer dad?'

Debbie sat on the floor, at his feet, and played with his socks. Billy felt slightly uncomfortable, but he didn't really mind. 'It's because he's unhappy and that.' Billy wanted to point out that she'd already said he was unhappy, but remained silent. 'Because they sleep in separate beds.'

'Yer mam and dad sleep in separate beds?'

'Yeah.'

'Why?'

'So they can't 'ave sex.' She stood up to fiddle with the things on her desk, painted a violent pink.

'They don't 'ave sex?!' Billy had certainly never heard of a couple never having sex before!

'Dad did it with this woman from work, but they don't think I know.' She sat next to Billy, obviously tired of talking about her family. 'D'yer miss yer mam, then?'

Billy frowned. He didn't really want to talk about his family either. 'I suppose so. It's just when I remember all of a sudden... When I'd forgotten and that...' He stopped, because Debbie had started to play with his hair. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. 'Your family's weird,' he said quietly.

**'**No, they're not.'

'They are, though. Their mental.' He grabbed her pillow, and hit her over the head. It was on the spur of the moment, but it was also to break the tension, and stop Debbie from messing around.

It didn't work very well, though, because he ended up sitting on the bottom of her stomach, and leaning over her face. He started to breathe shallowly, and remembered the magazines. She reached up, and started to stroke his cheek. Billy didn't move a muscle.

He didn't know if he was relieved or not when Mrs Wilkinson called for him. 'It's time to go home!' she said. 'Come on, Billy.' Billy stood up.

'Bye, Billy,' Debbie said.

'I'll see yer, Debbie.'

_**Please review, just to let me know you've read and enjoyed it. Although if you want to give some constructive criticism, it is very welcome!**_


	10. Chapter 10

Mrs Wilkinson drove Billy home. He was silent, thinking about dancing and Debbie. He didn't say anything to Mrs Wilkinson; not even where to drop him off. He just sort of gestured and grunted.

'Ok, then,' she said, as she pulled up on the corner. Billy climbed out of the car, but instead of walking away, he put his head through the open window.

'Miss, yer said earlier I'd blown something,' he said. 'What is it?'

Mrs Wilkinson sighed. 'Get back in the car, Billy.' Billy obliged, though he wasn't entirely sure why. 'Billy, for a long time now, I've been thinking of the Royal Ballet School.'

'Aren't you a bit old, Miss?'

Mrs Wilkinson couldn't believe this young, promising dancer was being so thick. 'No, not me, you! I'm the fuckin' teacher.' Billy looked blank. 'They 'old auditions in Newcastle.'

He finally piped up. 'I'd never get in,' he said. 'I 'ardly know nought.'

'It's not 'ow much yer know, they teacher yer that. It's 'ow you move, and express yerself.'

Billy pulled was scornful. 'Express what?'

'I think yer good enough to go for it.'

Billy tried thinking of another way to bat away the idea. 'But I'm banned.'

'So?'

'Whatta 'bout Dad?'

'Yeah, maybe I should 'ave a word with 'im...'

'No, Miss!' he cried, nearly jumping out of his skin.

'Alright, then, 'e doesn't 'ave to know!'

'Whatta 'bout boxin'?'

'Oh, look, Billy, if yer wanna piss about with yer little mates, that's fine with me!'

'Yeah, alright, alright, calm down!'

Mrs Wilkinson sighed, with a despairing smile. It seemed ridiculous for them to be fighting. 'So... We'd be doing it private, like?' Billy asked carefully, warming to the idea.

She put out a comforting hand to his knee. 'Just you and me,' she promised. His eyes travelled down to her hand, then back up to her face, widening as he did.

'Miss,' he said. 'Yer don't fancy me, d'yer?'

'No, Billy,' she said, trying to sound reproving. 'Funnily, I don't. Fuck off, now!'

Billy registered everything, and smirked. 'Fuck off yerself,' he said, getting out of the car.

'See yer Monday, then,' she called after him. She could only hope he had heard.

She was eternally grateful when he turned up that Monday, his sister in tow. She had been puffing on a cigarette, and playing with the peeling material of the pool table anxiously. She couldn't remember wanting to do something so badly for a long time. Strange; teaching a young boy to dance, training him to go away to a school, where he'd probably forget about her anyway, would affect her so profoundly. She wondered whether she was sick in the head.

Billy pulled open the huge, heavy metal doors with both hands, using all his strength. His sister didn't bother helping. They peered around the door, looking for their teacher. After staring into the darkness for a while (Mrs Wilkinson hadn't bothered turning many lights on), they could make out a hazy figure in a cloud of smoke. She walked out, still taking long drags from her cigarette. 'You're late,' she told them.

'You're early,' Hannah retorted, without missing a beat.

'You brought yer stuff?' Mrs Wilkinson ignored Hannah. That young lady wasn't in the limelight today!

'Yeah,' he said uncertainly.

'What's the matter?'

'I dunno if they're right, Miss.'

Hannah, who had been pulling out piano music and opening up the piano, groaned, 'Oh God, Billy, I told yer, if they're special to you, they're right, OK?'

Mrs Wilkinson shrugged. 'It's true.' Billy climbed into the boxing ring, and unpacked the contents of his bag. Mrs Wilkinson followed suit, and sat down next to him. Hannah started to play scales.

Billy laid out a football, his precious Newcastle shirt, some comics, and an envelope on the surface of the boxing ring. Mrs Wilkinson looked at all his belongings. He saw her pull a face when her eyes scanned the football. He could see a sudden interest come across her, which she tried to hide, when she got to the envelope. 'What's that?' she asked nonchalantly, trying to seem as if she couldn't care less.

'It's a letter.'

'Yeah, Billy, I can see it's a letter.'

'It's from me Mam. It was meant for when I was eighteen, but I opened it.'

'Can I read it?'

'Go on, then. But read it out loud.' Mrs Wilkinson took hold of the envelope with slightly shaking hands. This would have been the first contact she would have with her late friend since... She became late. She handled the letter as she might an ancient Egyptian scroll, with the meaning of life just a fingertip away. And then she began to read.

_Dear Billy,_

_ I know I must seem a distant memory to you, but please know that I am always here for you. With you through everything, and I always will be. And I will have missed seeing you grow, and missed seeing you cry. Missed your laughter, missed your stomping and shouting. One day you'll find someone else to love you like I love you, and you will have nearly forgotten me. But I won't mind, cause you'll be happy. Look after Dad. Keep Tony out of trouble. Make sure Hannah's OK. I am proud to have known you, son. And I am proud that you were mine. Always be yourself. I'll love you forever._

_Mam_

Everything was silent when Billy had finished; he had taken over from Mrs Wilkinson's reading within the first line. He knew the letter word perfect. Hannah had stopped playing the piano, and had come over to to sit with them, listening intently. Mrs Wilkinson wondered if she had recieved a letter as well.

She wiped away a quick tear. The spelling was appalling, and her handwriting was shaky, but Mrs Wilkinson wanted it for herself. It was the same Susan she had always known.

Billy and Hannah weren't crying. Billy's cheeks were blushed, and he stared off into the distance, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. Hannah stared down at her trousers, and played with the frayed tips. 'So,' Mrs Wilkinson said, feeling the desperate urge to break the silence. 'What kind of music 'ave you prepared for us, Hannah?'

The two Elliots immediately chirped up. They exchanged glances, and then looked at Mrs Wilkinson. 'I love to boogie,' Hannah said.

'It's T-Rex,' Billy added. 'One of our Tony's favourites.'

Mrs Wilkinson grinned at them, and they beamed back.

They practised for weeks. Hannah sang, with the piano accompanying her deep, jazzy voice. It wasn't the same as T-Rex but, though Billy would never say it, he preferred Hannah's version. She had no sheet music, only the music in her head.

Mrs Wilkinson took Billy's ideas to heart. She taught him to do a little bit of tap dancing, if only in his school shoes, which Billy loved. She even put a little bit in the dance with the football! She, of course, also taught him a lot of ballet. He was going every night after school, and staying for nearly two hours, sometimes three. Tony and Jackie were so wrapped up in their precious miners' strike they didn't notice, so long as Grandma was safe. Billy had taken to locking her in the house.

Hannah couldn't be there for every rehearsal. She was still working very hard, and getting top marks in everything. People were encouraging her to apply for Oxford and Cambridge! Billy preferred it when Hannah would practice with them, because ballet exercises were better when she played sweet piano music to go with it. And they grew closer as they walked home, chatting and slagging each other off.

Billy walked home, practising some tap dancing he'd begged Mrs Wilkinson to teach him. Hannah's music was still whirling around his head, despite the fact she had been holed up in a library all evening. His heart dropped when he slammed the door. 'Grandma,' he called. 'Tea time.'

_**Sorry, I know it's short, but it was all I could whip up, seeing as I haven't been updating recently. I've had a mild case of writer's block.**_


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing Billy saw when he came through the back door was Hannah sitting with her schoolwork at the kitchen table, taking up half the space of the space. 'Alright, ducky?' she asked, barely glancing up at him, and not paying much attention. 'You're late home. Did yer go t'see Michael?'

Billy didn't answer for a few moments. He dropped his bag on the floor, which he noticed was getting filthy, and slung his school jacket over the back of the chair, sighing heavily. 'You alright?'

'Fine.'

She continued to scribble furiously. 'What're yer writin'?'

'An essay.'

''bout what, now?'

''oward's End.'

'Wassat? Some posh book?' Billy knew how much his eldest sibling and father disapproved of Hannah's private education, which she only got because she had been clever enough to pass the exam. They didn't get a grammar school education, let alone private, and they were doing alright, and so would he. Hannah knew this, too, and had put up with enough stick about it.

'Nothin', don't worry. D'yer want some toast?'

Billy nodded. 'D'we 'ave jam?'

'Well, no.'

'But we 'ave honey.'

'Not really.'

'Butter?'

'Marge.'

'Somethin' to make it into a sandwich? Ham, or somethin'?'

'No…'

Billy sighed. 'Maybe I'll leave out.'

'It might be a good idea. I'm sorry, Billy, but it's cause of this fu-'

'Miners' strike. Yeah, I know.'

Hannah shrugged. 'I think we're 'aving sausages fer tea, anyway.'

Billy had stopped listening. He was slumped down in his chair, and picking at the scratches he'd already made in the table. 'Are you alright?' He didn't reply, having not really heard what she'd said. 'Oi. Billy. Wassa matter?'

'Nothin'. I was just thinking.'

'What about?'

'Y'know!'

'No, actually, I don't.' Some might have taken Hannah's tone as harsh, but it was the only way she knew how to speak to people, and Billy was used to it anyway. 'Tell us.'

Billy ignored her. 'OK. I'm cookin' tonight, cause Dad and Tony are up to God knows what.' Billy's face was one of pure disgust. 'Don't look at me like that!'

'But'cha can't cook!'

'I bloody well can. Yer'll eat it, and yer won't complain.' Billy huffed. 'Why're you so upset?' She got nothing. 'I'll tell yer what. If yer promise to tell me what's up, I'll go and get us fish and chips fer tea.'

'Nah, don't.'

Hannah was already out of her chair and beginning to pick up books and pens. She dropped them, and leaned to one side, her hands on her hips. 'Why not?' He didn't reply. 'Why not, Billy?' she asked more fiercely.

'I've already 'ad tea.'

'Where?'

'Hannah, I dunno why yer worryin'. I 'aven't done anythin'-'

'Well stop actin' like it, and tell me where yer've been all evenin',' she interrupted.

'I told yer, I was at-'

'At Michael's. I know what yer told me. And now, yer can tell me where yer've really been.'

'I've told yer!' His voice went up a few notches. 'I was at Michael's!'

'Yeah, right, Billy! And where did yer eat tea? They never would 'ave fed yer! They 'ardly feed Michael!'

Billy wasn't entirely sure why he continued to dig himself into a deeper hole. He thought Hannah probably would have applauded the thought of the Royal Ballet school. But he couldn't imagine bringing the humiliation of having to admit he had gone to see _Debbie, _of all people.

'Where were yer, Billy?'

'Nowhere!'

'You weren't seeing a girl, were yer?'

'No!' Well, he may have been seeing a girl, but not in the sense Hannah was implying. Not quite.

'Billy!'

He stood up suddenly, pushing his chair out from under him, and slammed his hands on the table as he'd seen his father do so many times. 'Hannah, leave off! I know what I'm doin'!' It was a favourite line of his sister's.

'No, yer don't!'

'What, and you do?' He felt immediately nasty after he'd said that, but Hannah didn't seem to mind.

'I do, actually. I 'ave a good few years on you, which means I'm allowed to tell you what to do!'

Billy gave a loud sigh of indignation and disbelief, using his hands for emphasis, and started to storm out of the room. But Hannah was having none of it, grabbing hold of his wrist, and yanking him back. 'Hannah, gerroff!' Her grip tightened. 'Tell me where you were.'

'No!'

Strangely enough, it was the man that Billy should have been desperate to avoid that became his saviour. Jackie came bustling through the door, asking where his supper was. Hannah dropped Billy's wrist like it was suddenly made of lead. 'What're you two up to?' Jackie asked when he realised Billy was bright red, and Hannah had an expression, which was a mix of worry and guilt. It wasn't a face a teenager should be able to pull.

But it disappeared, and instead, she wore an exasperated expression. 'Nothin', Dad.'

'Yer've been up to somethin'.'

'Don't be ridiculous. Nothin' at all has happened.' Jackie left it at that, and Billy scowled. She was doing exactly what she'd been reprimanding him for doing a few moments before.

Jackie didn't really care what Billy and Hannah had been arguing about. They were siblings; they were supposed to argue. God knew Hannah and Tony had enough.

What had shaken him was Hannah's agonised expression. For the first time in a long time, he was tossing and turning in bed, worrying about his children properly. He had always known that their mother's death was going to have affected all three of them badly, but he had never wondered how they were going to have changed.

The thought had never even been suggested to him that Hannah would resume role as mother over Billy; or that that could be in any way stressful for her. Or how hard it would be for Billy; one moment, Hannah being an almost unknown big sister, who was meant to be ignored, and the next, she's looking after him. That would be bewildering for anyone.

And he had no idea what he was meant to do about it, either. He didn't think there was a lot. It was surely the natural thing to happen, and God knew, there was nothing he could do about nature. Short of taking the mother role himself, and possibly confusing his children more than ever, there was absolutely nothing he could do,

He groaned, and rolled over.

Hannah spent all of the next day in school worrying about Billy. She came close to getting detention a few times for not paying any sort of attention to what the teacher was saying. She tried concentrating, and forgetting about the boy, but found that everything reminded her of something, which would lead to a trail of thoughts, which would always end with Billy. Six degrees of separation.

It came to a point that she felt sick with worry. She didn't know what had come over her; she usually wouldn't care less what Billy did. But it felt as if some profound connection had been formed between them, without either of them agreeing to it.

Several friends and teachers asked whether she was OK. They claimed she was pale and shaky, and looked as if she'd seen a ghost. She continued to assure them she was fine, until she was frogmarched to the nurse's office. The school nurse was hopeless. If a plaster wouldn't help you, then you were either to suck it up and go back to the classroom, or be sent home. 'But, please, Miss, there's no one at home.'

'Where are they?'

'Picket line.' Hannah got a sense of satisfaction at her nurse's shocked face. There weren't many miners' children in the grammar school. She smirked for a minute, but dropped it immediately when she thought of Billy's 11+. She was fairly sure Tony and Jackie wouldn't let him take it, let alone if he'd pass it or not.

'Well, is there anyone else who could come and pick yer up?'

'No,' she said instantly. Then she thought about it for a moment. 'Yes.'

As Hannah sat waiting for the car to pick her up, she decided she didn't care if Mrs Wilkinson was cross that she was being forced to drive all the way into Newcastle to pick Hannah up. Hannah needed a kind, familiar face, however bad tempered it may often be. Mrs Wilkinson was just going to have to put up with Hannah.

'Alright?' Mrs Wilkinson asked as Hannah climbed into the car. 'What's the matter?'

'I'm not s'posed t'be very well, see. My mates made me go and see the nurse, who decided t'send me home. We don't own a car, and Dad and Tony would never pick me up anyway, so I called you. And you came t'pick me up.'

'Are yer actually ill?'

'No, I don't think so. Well, I don't know.'

'OK. D'yer want to go home?'

'Can I come back to your 'ouse?'

'Course. I'll make yer some tea.' They were mostly quiet for the rest of the thirty minute drive back to Everington. The twisted journey, which usually had no affect on Hannah whatsoever made her feel suddenly queasy.

'Are you OK? Yer've gone a bit green.'

'Not really.' They had pulled up onto Mrs Wilkinson's drive, and climbed out of the car.

'What's the matter, love? Tell me what's on your mind.'

Hannah was silent as she followed Mrs Wilkinson into her house, and sat down at the kitchen table. 'No Mr Wilkinson?'

'He's down the pub, I think.' Hannah made no comment. She didn't know what it would be like to have an alcoholic husband, and had no right to say something comforting. 'I'll just get the tea.'

She came back in carrying two mugs of warm, milky tea. 'I put honey in your's. It'll be good for yer.' Hannah took a reluctant sip, and forced herself to swallow. Mrs Wilkinson smiled slightly at the horrified expression. 'So, tell yer aunty Sandra what's goin' through that little 'ead of yours.'

'I'm worried about Billy.'

'Oh yeah?'

''e came 'ome yesterday, quite late, like, and 'e'd said 'e'd 'ad tea, and that 'e'd been at Michael's. But I know 'e 'and't been, cause Michael's family would never feed 'im, and 'e looked guilty as anythin'.'

Mrs Wilkinson frowned. ''e came 'ere for supper yesterday.'

Hannah looked shocked. 'Did 'e?'

'Yeah. Turned up on our doorstep. 'e 'ad dinner with us, then 'e went and played with Debbie. Then I gave 'im a lift home.'

'Did anythin' else happen?'

'That's what I'm gettin' to. I told 'im that I wanted 'im to audition for the RAB.'

'The what?'

'Royal Academy of Ballet.'

Hannah was shell shocked for a moment. She couldn't think what to say or do; her mouth simply hung open uselessly. 'I think I'd like to go home now, Miss.'

_**I'm sorry that I've taken so long to update. Terrible case of writer's block. Anyway, it's been cured now, and I'm excited about uploading. I think I've changed a few things about Hannah (she goes to a private school, when she didn't before, and her age is unkown). I'm certain that wasn't what was before. I also haven't checked it for typos, because I can't be bothered, so I'm sure it will be littered with mistakes. If you enjoyed it enough, please leave a review taking any shape or form, so I know it's being read.**_


	12. Chapter 12

Billy went to Michael's house after school. He needed to be cheered up after his disastrous evening with Hannah, and dreary day at school.

Unfortunately, Billy had paid so little attention in school that not only had he been slapped across the wrist two or three times, but he also had to stay behind as a humiliating punishment.

He left the school building three quarters of an hour later than Michael, and it took him a lengthy thirty minutes to walk to Michael's house. Perhaps he wouldn't have got such a shock if he had walked back with Michael, for he was greeted at the door by someone who certainly looked like his best friend, but his mind was full of doubt as to whether it was.

Michael had gone home, and changed into his sister's clothes. He wore ruby red shoes, a floral patterned dress, a wooden beaded necklace, and Billy could have sworn he was wearing blusher and mascara. Although, Michael had always had eyelashes to sweep the floor with, and he was probably blushing anyway.

Billy was lost for words. His eyes were saucers, and his mouth open and closed uselessly, as a goldfish might. 'Are yer comin'in, or what?' Michael grinned. Billy tried to agree, but came out as a sort of nod and gurgling sound.

He stood at the door of Tanya, Michael's sister, 's bedroom, and watched Michael admire himself in Tanya's mirror. 'Jesus Christ,' he muttered. 'Why're you wearin' that?'

'D'yer like it?'

'It's a dress.'

'So?'

'It's a bloody dress!'

Michael looked down doubtfully. Billy sighed, and sat down on the bed. 'D'yer want one of me mam's?'

Billy was horrified. 'No thanks! Yer alright.'

'Calm down, I was only askin'.'

Billy watched him for a minute. 'Uh… Michael?'

'What?' He was still annoyed that Billy had been rude about his outfit.

'D'yer think bein' a ballet dancer would be better than bein' a miner?'

'I dunno. Why d'yer ask?'

Billy paused, then shrugged. 'Just wonderin'.' Michael didn't delve any deeper.

'Go on, dress up. 'ave some fun.'

'No way!'

'Yer can wear the red evenin' gown one.'

'Yer mam doesn' 'ave an evenin' gown!'

'Well, it's a party dress, anyway.'

'Michael! I promise, you won't get me in a dress!'

'Whaddabout some lipstick?' he said, grabbing hold of the chipped, gold plated tube in one hand. Billy collapsed on to his back.

'Fuckin' 'ell.'

Michael got up, still clutching the lipstick, and knealt on the bed next to Billy. He leaned over him, holding the offensive object like dagger. Billy pulled a face. 'What're yer doin'?'

'Puttin' lipstick on yer. Stay still, or I'll get it in yer eye.' Billy thought about it for a minute, then decided he was quite interested as to what it was like, and stopped squirming to allow Michael to continue.

Once he'd finished smearing it all over his friend's lips, he continued to hover above Billy's face, staring at him. Billy stared back, blinking slightly. Michael tried concentrating on the area where Billy's eyes should be, but his own pair continued to flicker to his lips. ''ave you ever been kissed?' he asked, before he could reason with himself and stop.

Billy wasn't sure what to say. Yes, of course. Though he hadn't. 'Yeah.' Michael looked disappointed.

'Oh, aye?

'Aye.'

''o was the lass, then?'

'Who said it were a lass?' Billy joked. He needed to buy time to think of someone. Michael looked even more disappointed, and rolled off.

He mentally made a list of all the girls he could name. There were a number of girls to choose from, as his school was made up from the children of many surrounding villages. There was Jenny, Lisa, Tina, Amy, Heather, Rebecca, Karen, Kelly&Shelly (twins), Susan, Sarah, Tracy, Pamela, and finally, Maria.

Maria was the prettiest of all the girls in the glass; she had matured far quicker than Susan, for instance, and had long dark hair, big brown eyes, and was tall and slim. He thought about telling him it was Maria, but Michael might have seen a flaw in that lie (Billy wasn't exactly the most sought after boy). Pamela, Maria's best friend, might have been a better fit. Scrawny and long nosed, but also confident and at least believed she was as pretty as Maria, she seemed perfect. 'Pamela.'

Michael rolled over on his side to scrunch his nose at Billy. 'Pamela Williams?'

Billy continued to stare at the ceiling. 'Yeah.'

'When was that, then?'

He thought quickly. 'After the parent's evenin'. You didn't turn up, cause you were too scared to see what yer mam and dad 'ad to say.'

'Then what 'appened?'

'Maria went off with Johnny, and I was standin' by the wall, waitin' for Hannah and Dad and Tony to come out. Pamela was left alone, like, so she came up to me, and took me by the hand. Then we went round the bike sheds. She asked me about me mam and shit, and said she was sorry. Then she started to talk about what she could do in return. I shrugged, so she went an' kissed me.'

''ow long did it last?'

'Ten seconds, maybe.'

'What was it like?'

Billy had absolutely no idea what kissing a girl might be like, and was getting fed up with talking about it. 'I dunno! Can we talk about somethin' else?'

'Sure.'

But before either of them could utter another word, there was a loud hammering at Michael's flimsy front door, and Hannah's voice shouting, 'Billy? Billy, if yer in there, I suggest yer come out right now!'

Billy pulled a face. 'Can I 'ide in 'ere fer a bit?'

'Billy Elliot!'

'Actually, better not. It sounds like she's on a rampage.' He stood up, and glanced at himself in the mirror. He quickly rubbed his lips with his sleeve. 'I'll see yer, Michael.'

'Bye, Billy.' Michael watched Billy's back disappear wistfully. _Lucky Pamela, _ he thought to himself darkly.

Billy couldn't work out what Hannah was thinking when he opened the door. He put on his best defiant face; one which he had, again, learned from his elder sister. 'Where did you go yesterday, Billy?' she asked calmly. She sighed, folded her arms, and tapped her foot.

'I was just out, Hannah.'

'Out where?' Billy jumped all the steps leading up to Michael's house, and started to walk away. 'I know where you were,' Hannah said, bounding with her admittedly short legs to catch up with him. 'Yer may as well own up.' Billy snuck a glance at her through the corner of his eye. She was looking straight ahead. He couldn't work out if this was an evil ploy to get him to tell her. But if she really was telling the truth, then he'd better explain before she jumped to conclusions.

'You tell me what you know, and I'll tell yer if it's true,' he said cautiously.

'OK. I 'eard you went to the Wilkinson's.'

Shit. She knew the truth. 'So what if I did?'

'I also heard that she made a proposition. A potentially life changin' one.'

'I don't remember that.' She stopped, and held Billy's bicep to make him stop too. He did so reluctantly, and would look anywhere but at her. 'Why didn't yer tell me yer'd agreed to audition for the Royal Ballet School?'

'I didn't agree to audition! I told 'er I'd turn up on Monday. That isn't the same thing.'

'Yer still should have told me!'

'Why? Why the fuck should I?'

'Because I don't know how yer think yer gettin' in if you don't have someone t'help.'

'Who?'

'Your's truly.'

Hannah joined Billy on the Monday. They had decided on terms; Hannah would be the pianist, to save money and energy on radios and tapes. But if she was snowed under with school work, Mrs Wilkinson and he would just have to make do without music. Mrs Wilkinson had no idea about these arrangements, but they had assumed since she was merely the teacher, she would make do with what they decided.

It took all of Billy's strength to open the huge iron doors, which lead into the boxing hall, where he'd been ordered to turn up. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the smoky darkness. They could just make out a figure by the unexplained pool table, who emerged from the cigarette smoke that surrounded her. 'Hello,' she said, not seeming to be at all surprised by Hannah's presence. 'I didn't think you'd turn up.'

Billy shrugged. 'I did.'

'And how are you, Hannah?'

'I'm gonna be yer pianist.' No question, no uncertainty. A simple, stated fact. Mrs Wilkinson kept a poker face.

'Very good. Go and warm up while I talk to Billy, then.'

She glanced at her brother to check that it was OK. He showed no signs of rebellion, so she scurried into the corner, and started to hammer some concerto out of the ancient instrument.

'Are you happy for Hannah to play the piano?' Mrs Wilkinson asked quietly.

Billy nodded. 'OK, fine. So long as you're sure.'

'Miss?' They started to walk slowly to the barre in the middle of the room. 'What do I need to do for the ballet audition?'

'You 'ave to dance for them, and then they interview yer. They like yer to take the 11+, too, so they know where yer at with school.'

'Why d'they care what you do at school?'

'This still a school, like any other school. Yer still learn English and maths and history and French. But on top of all that, yer dance for three hours every day, and can eventually become a ballet dancer professional, like.'

'D'yer reckon I'll get in?'

Mrs Wilkinson paused. 'I dunno. I've never put a student forward for this before. Maybe.' They had reached the barre and piano. 'OK, Hannah, would piece 'ave you decided on, to start me an' Billy off?'

Hannah pressed the quiet pedal, but didn't look up, and didn't stop playing. 'We thought we'd start with I Love to Boogie. Ya know? ?'

Mrs Wilkinson couldn't help but grin.

_**The last third of this is going to be littered with mistakes, but I couldn't be bothered to look over the last bit. Sorry! Drop a line if you care to!**_


	13. Chapter 13

Life continued as normal in the Elliot household. Actually, normal wasn't the right word. The younger two were happier than they had been for years. Hannah was getting perfect marks at school, as well as being allowed to play the piano almost everyday. Billy was yet again surprised at how much he loved dancing. When he danced, all he could worry about was his body. Everything else dropped away. It just didn't matter. If he didn't force himself to stop thinking, then he wouldn't get it right, and Mrs Wilkinson would make him do it again and again and again until he got it perfect. Then they'd do it a few more times to be sure.

Not that Jackie or Tony noticed. They were too wrapped up in their strike to notice the change in their family. Jackie's face was showing the signs of worry, and Tony would just get angry.

This was demonstrated when Hannah was in a particularly good mood, and was whistling clean and clearly as she boiled potatoes and baked the shop bought fish pie for supper. Billy and Tony were sat at the table, both lost in their own thoughts, until Tony had finally decided he'd had enough. 'Would you shut up, Hannah?'

She ignored him. There was nothing unusual in this. Hannah wouldn't usually pay attention to Tony. It wasn't in her nature. 'Hannah! Shut up!' Again, it had no affect on her. 'You're fuckin' selfish, you are. You know that?'

'Am I, now?' she asked, feigning disinterest, and checking the pie.

'Yeah, you are.'

She sat down next to Billy, who had started to pay attention to what was going on between them, and opposite Tony. 'Go on. 'ow am I selfish?' She narrowed her eyes slightly, challenging him.

'I've 'ad one of the toughest days; me mate was taken down by the police, and Martin's a scab, an'-'

'OK. D'yer wanna 'ear about _my_ day?' Tony shrugged. '_I_ woke up at six o'clock to get you three yer breakfasts. Then I 'ad to walk fer 'alf an hour to get to the bus. Wait for ten minutes or so. Sit on the bus on my own with nothin' to do for forty five minutes.'

'Aw, yer poor darlin'-'

'Then I was in school. Y'know, I speak different at school? If I speak proper 'ere, then you'll beat me up. If I speak like a miner over there, I get a blackboard rubber thrown at me. It bloody hurts! Then some of the girls asked me 'ow the miner's strike was goin', so I was standin' there in front of the school stickin' up for you miners! Then I came 'ome and got Billy some bread and jam. I did some cleanin', and tried to do some 'omework. But then _you_ came clatterin' in, shoutin' and bangin' stuff about. So I 'ad to cook yer food. And do you know what I've realised?'

Tony wouldn't meet her eyes. 'Do you know, Tony? Do yer want to know?' He remained perfectly silent and still. 'I realised that no one gives a fuck about the miner's strike. Yer won't win, and nobody will care when yer don't.' Billy, who had been staring guiltily at the pattern on the table cloth, stared at Hannah. He couldn't believe she had just said that.

'Yer don't care, d'yer?' Tony asked incredulously.

'No. I don't.'

'Well, what about yer community? You think yer gonna go to some poncy university, 'n' get a job, an' all that _shit,'_ he spat. 'But you won't. When we win the strike, you'll end up marryin' a miner. Yer know that?'

'No, I fuckin' well won't! You'd better just wait an' see.'

'And what about our Billy? D'yer not care about 'is future?'

'No, _you_ don't care about 'is future,' she shouted, jabbing her index finger at him. 'I wan' 'im to get into a grammar school, so 'e can move out of this shit hole, and get a lovely, comfortable, office job, rather than ruinin' 'is lungs down the pits! It's you 'o doesn't care about our Billy! All you care about is whether yer get the better of Thatcher! Well, I'm sure she's really feelin' the burn. I bet she's lyin' in bed right now, thinkin', "Oh, God, what're we gonna do? Tony Elliot doesn't like us! Jesus Christ, we're all done for!" Well, I'll tell yer what, sonny-'

Billy muttered something. 'What was that, lovely?' Hannah asked, not tearing her eyes from Tony.

'I'm not your Billy! I'm not either of your Billy! I'm my own Billy, and I can look after meself!' He stood up suddenly, and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him as his siblings jumped for each other's throats again.

It was only five o'clock, and he could be out for hours yet. He started to run, and didn't stop sprinting until he was on the high street. He slowed to a walk, and looked about. There wasn't a lot on the high street. A supermarket, a sweet shop, the portable library at the end of the street, by the patch of yellow scrub that some claimed to be grass. He decided to walk up there, and watch the policemen play cricket.

But Billy was not met by police men; rather, two girls from his school. Pamela and Maria, to be precise. The policemen obviously had found something better to do than play ball games.

He, slightly apprehensively, strolled towards the girls. He could always walk straight past them if they ignored him. They watched him approach like vultures. When he was near enough, Pamela piped up, ''iyer, Billy!' He raised a hand nervously.

'Hi.' Maria grinned with her pearly white teeth.

'You OK, Billy?' He stopped next to them, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. You?'

'Good, thanks,' Pamela replied. She was stood with one hand on her waist, leaning on one side, and smacking gum. Maria was sat on the wooden fence quietly. They had both unbuttoned the first few buttons of their shirts, rolled up their sleeves, and hitched up their skirts. Pamela tossed her hair out of her face. 'So, what brings you to this part of the village?'

'Oh, yer know.' He shrugged. 'Family fightin' an' stuff.' Pamela gave a little ironic snort, and rolled her eyes.

'Yeah, I know what yer mean, mate, I know what yer mean.'

As if her mother could have heard her, a woman in an apron came out of one of the houses, and shouted, 'Pamela! Yer tea's ready!'

'I'll be there in a minute, Mam!' she shouted over her shoulder.

'No! You'll be here right now, or I'll come out there and getcha meself!'

Pamela rolled her eyes. 'See what I mean?'

'Pamela!'

'Alright, I'm comin', I'm comin'.' She said her goodbyes, and treaded her way carefully through the dog shit up to her house.

Once Pamela had gone, Billy didn't know what he was meant to do. He supposed the best thing was to say he had to get on, but he wasn't wasting an opportunity to hang out with Maria. 'Are you doin' anythin' now, then?'

Billy shook his head. 'Nah. I don't wanna go back just yet. I'll wait fer it t'calm down a bit first.'

Maria shrugged. 'Fair enough. D'yer wanna go for a walk?'

Billy narrowed his eyes slightly. Was she having him on?

She seemed to be deadly serious, so he said, 'Sure. Whatever suits you,' and she got up and they began to walk slowly out of the patch of grass.

'So, what was up with yer family?' she asked.

'Oh, yer know.' Billy was going to leave it at that, but she continued to look at him questioningly. 'This miner's strike is stressin' everyone out. And me sister's got exams and shit…'

'Oh, yeah, yer sister's the one 'o got into private school, isn't she?'

'Aye. Don' laugh at her. She wants a proper education, or somethin'.'

'I'm not! I think it's wicked that she's goin' to go to university. I mean, who gets to do that?'

Billy thought about it. 'I guess.' They didn't stop walking when they got to the outskirts of the village. They carried on in to the fields. Billy wondered where exactly she was planning on taking him. 'I mean, me dad and brother don't like it.' His stomach leapt. Did she really want to talk about it? He tensed for a moment as he waited for her reply.

'How come?'

'They think she's goin' to get all high and mighty, or somethin' like that.'

Maria sat down in the long grass. Billy plodded down next to her. 'Doesn't she 'ave every right to?' He rested his chin on one knee, letting one long leg spread out, while Maria leaned back on her elbows, and enjoyed the watery sunshine.

'Suppose so. I mean, she does think she's better than us, cause she wants to be a doctor.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.'

'Fuck. Imagine bein' related to a doctor.' Billy didn't know how to reply. 'So, what der you wanna do when yer grow up?'

'I dunno.'

'Come on,' she grinned, letting her head roll to the side and looking at him. 'Everybody 'as a dream.'

'Minin'?'

She looked at him suspiciously. 'OK. When yer get a proper one, let me know.' He suddenly found himself hoping that one day he could tell her about ballet. Who knows? Perhaps she wouldn't mind, but he wasn't prepared to take that risk just yet.

'What's your dream, then?'

'I wanna model. I wanna be _famous_.' Billy smiled. 'What?'

'I'm not surprised is all.'

'Why not?'

'Well, the most fancied after girl in school wants the attention all her life.' He'd said it before he'd know what he was really thinking. He wouldn't be able to describe the relief he felt when she threw her head back and laughed. He watched her long, dark hair shine in the sun.

After a while she stopped laughing. 'Yeah, but I wish they didn't.' It was Billy's turn to be confused.

'What d'yer mean?'

'Well, Johnny, for instance.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. 'e tried to put his tongue down my throat!'

Billy pulled a face. 'That's horrible!' He paused. 'What was it like?' She laughed again, and Billy smiled with her. He was so proud that he could make her laugh.

'It was all wet and slimy, and 'e made all this noises!'

'Eurgh!' He suddenly, for no apparent reason, thought about his family again, and found that he didn't care. Maria had made him forget all about them. She noticed his face fall.

'You OK?'

'Yeah, fine.' Maria looked curious, but managed not to press any further.

'D'yer have the time?'

'No, sorry. Why?'

'I think I should get back fer tea.'

'Oh,' he said. 'OK, then.' She got up, and pulled her jacket over her shoulders.

'But listen, d'yer wanna meet up tomorrow?'

'Sure.' He tried to stay laid back, but found himself excited at the prospect. 'Oh… Actually, right after school, I'm busy.'

'Well, when will yer be finished?'

'Five, I guess.'

'D'yer wanna meet 'ere again at half past?' Billy stared up at her, squinting through the sunlight.

'Sounds great. I'll see yer then.'

'See yer!'

Billy fell back into the grass, grinning like a madman. He couldn't believe his luck.

_**OK, I don't know how you'll all react to this chapter, but with any luck, you'll be in favour. This is an appeal for help, because I can assure you there will be no more updates until I get some more ideas. If any of you would like to see something happen; more of Tony, Michael, Hannah, Maria, Debbie, Mrs Wilkinson, whatever, and also have some sort of idea of what they might do, I BEG you to tell me. I desperately need some more inspiration, because I'm stuck for ideas! Also, I'm changing the name to Durham's Little Gene Kelly.**_


	14. Chapter 14

Billy trotted back to his family, who were almost at breaking point. He acknowledged that something absolutely terrible was going to happen at some point, but he couldn't concentrate on that after his evening with Maria. He knew that she wouldn't want anything to do with him at school, but he didn't care. He somehow believed that if their friendship was kept in the dark, it would be made all the more special.

Jackie was back, and obviously had been for a while, when Billy arrived. He was sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, drinking warm beer, and taking slow, thoughtful drags of his cigarettes. Billy turned the lights on before noticing his dad, and froze like a rabbit in headlights. But when he saw that his dad didn't really care what he had been up to, he visibly relaxed. 'And where have you been?'

'Out,' Billy replied, without missing a beat. 'I'm going to bed,' he continued before Jackie could ask further questions. 'Is Tony in bed?'

'No, Tony's out. Hannah's doing homework, and you need a bath.'

'No, I don't, Dad.'

'Yes, you do. Go upstairs and run yerself one before I bang yer head together.'

'No!' Of course, Billy eventually bathed. He was sitting up in bed by the time Tony came home, reading a comic, with damp sheets from where his hair had dripped. It was only slightly damp by then.

His eldest sibling was completely off his face. He fell into bed without removing any of his clothes, mumbling something incoherent about Billy turning off the lights.

He had been right about Maria wanting nothing to do with him in school. As he walked into the playground, with Michael at his side, their eyes met briefly, but Maria did nothing to greet him, so he ignored her too.

Although there was nothing unusual about his wanting school to end, he was particularly desperate on the said Tuesday. Once school had finished, he was going straight to the boxing hall to dance with Mrs Wilkinson. Then he was meeting up with Maria. And Hannah had promised some bacon for tea.

When the final bell rung, he pelted out of the school, sprinting right across the village to get to his ballet lesson early. But Mrs Wilkinson still beat him to it. She was sitting alone in the boxing ring, with a halo of smoke around her head. 'Alright, Billy?' she called.

'Yeah. And you, Miss?'

'Hannah isn't comin' today, is she?'

Billy slid under the sides of the boxing ring to join his teacher. 'No, she 'as a biology exam.' Mrs Wilkinson gave a curt nod.

'So, we'll practice pirouettes today.'

'Aw, Miss!' Practicing something like pirouettes never failed to bore Billy.

'Well, if yer don't practice, yer'll never get to the fun stuff. Fifth position, arms in second, please.'

By the time Mrs Wilkinson was done with him, Billy was nearly late for Maria. He was drenched in sweat, and only had time to wrench his ballet gear off, and shove on his uniform. He then rushed to where they had been the day before.

Billy was no expert, but he could have sworn Maria was wearing a little bit of make up. Her lips seemed redder, and her eyelashes longer. She had hitched up the skirt of her school uniform, and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt again for whatever reason. Billy didn't care what she wore.

'Sorry I'm late! I got held up, is all.'

'Don't worry. I 'aven't been waitin' 'ear long.' Billy nodded, and sat on the fence. 'Look, Billy, I'm really sorry fer not talkin' to you in school.'

''S'fine.'

'It's just that, yer know, yer a bit of a loner, 'angin' out with that Michael.'

Billy frowned slightly. 'Wassa matter with Michael?'

Maria looked uncomfortable. 'Well, y'know…'

'No, I don't.'

''e's a bit weird, inne?'

'So am I.'

Maria sighed heavily. 'But yer really nice, too. And funny. And sweet.'

Billy glowed under her compliments. 'So yer like me anyway?'

'Yeah. And you like me, even though I'm really mean an' pretty an' 'ave boyfriends and stuff.'

'Yer not mean.' He smiled at her immediate assumption that he liked her.

'Me friends are.' Billy didn't reply. Instead, he climbed off the fence, and lay flat on his back in the grass.

'But that isn't your fault,' he said after getting comfortable. She lay down next to him. Their hands were brushing against each other lightly.

Billy wondered if he should tell her about ballet, but, as if she had read his mind, she said, 'I'm glad you stopped that ballet shit.' He laughed nervously, and agreed.

'Yeah. I know…'

They carried on to talk for ages, barely moving a muscle, and watching the sun slowly set in the sky. Billy felt content, which was a feeling he hadn't felt in too long.

It was never going to last, though. He continued as he was until a week later (surviving school, dancing for an hour and half, talking to Maria for two hours, having dinner, spending the Saturday and Sunday with Michael), but he hadn't really noticed the tension rising in the house.

He didn't notice the tension at all until he was woken in the early hours in the morning by his brother clattering about. 'What're yer doin'?' he asked wearily, rubbing his bleary eyes.

'Go back to sleep.'

'It's four o'clock!' Billy was intrigued as to what his brother was up to, so padded softly after him when he was sure the coast was clear. On his way downstairs, where he'd assumed his brother had gone, he noticed his dad's bedroom door open, with no dad in it.

Tony went as quietly as he could into the kitchen. He knew that Jackie was out, and he'd already woken Billy, but he couldn't bear to think what would happen if he woke Hannah.

Unfortunately, in his rush, he hadn't noticed Hannah sitting with a mug of warm milk in the corner of the kitchen. She watched him quietly until he took the hammer out of the toolbox. 'What're yer doin'?' she piped up.

He spun around. 'Nothin'. Go back t'bed.' He saw Billy in the doorway. 'Both of yer.'

'What's goin' on?' he asked, but as usual, he was ignored.

'I'm not goin' until you do.' She managed to radiate confidence, but Billy could see her hands shaking as she put the mug on the table, stood up, and walked to block Tony's way out. 'D'yer think that's a good idea?'

He didn't reply. 'Yer gonna get yerself locked in jail. Then what 'appens to me an' Billy?' He remained quiet, but staring at her. She stood as tall as she could, but even then she was a foot smaller than him. 'Not that yer'd 'ave it in yer,' she spat, chuckling quietly at the prospect of Tony "having it in him". 'If yer did, yer would 'ave knocked me down by now, and left.' He tried shoving past her, but she wasn't finished with him yet.

'You're practically an old man, now, aren't yer? What're yer tryin' to prove? That yer 'ard enough to get beaten up by the police, or what?' Her voice raised. 'Ever since Mam died, yer've been nothing at all except a useless, foolhardy twat, what the fuck are you goin' to do to get me-' He punched her, sending her sprawling across the floor. Billy screamed. He wasn't sure if words came out of his mouth, but he definitely screamed.

The corner of his sister's mouth was bloody, and she cowered away from him in the corner of the room. Hannah, Billy's courageous, intelligent, intellectual, snobby, irritating, and fantastic big sister was lying on the floor from his brother's fist. She stared at him incredulously, her eyes wide, holding her face. Tony looked like he was going to cry. Tears ran down Billy's face as he tried choking down his tears.

Tony moved to grab the hammer, and Hannah visibly flinched. Billy started to take little breathy cries. The eldest Elliot slammed out of the house.

Hannah pulled herself up, and with trembling legs, wobbled over to Billy. She pulled him into a rough hug, and he sobbed into her shoulder. He could feel the blood from her lip soaking into his hair, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His entire family was falling to ruin, and he was beginning to realise that it was all Thatcher's fault.

Hannah allowed Billy to have the following day off school. They both sat at home on the sofa, mostly in silence. Tony had sneered at them, but he had only had to look at Hannah's now scabby lip to shove off. Jackie still wasn't home, but nobody cared. He'd probably fallen over drunk somewhere.

It was only when there was a knock at the door that either of them shifted. It took some incessant knocking for Hannah to tell Billy to go and hide in his room. She'd say she was ill, and that Billy was at school, provided it wasn't Tony.

As it turned out, she had to use this excuse, because it was a policeman who was standing at the door. 'Can I 'elp yer?' she asked, one hand on her hip.

'Is this the Elliot household?'

'What's it to you?' She didn't want to have to deal with cockney policemen, and didn't care if she was arrested.

'Are you Hannah Elliot?'

'What's it matter? No one cares, anyway.'

'Can I come in?'

Hannah didn't say anything for a minute, instead sizing him up. She reckoned if he tried anything funny, she could scream for Billy to get someone, and beat him up anyway. He was relatively small and portly. She turned around and walked into her kitchen, leaving the door open for the policeman to follow. 'Can I get yer anythin', officer?'

'A cuppa would be lovely.'

'Well, that's a shame, because I'm not allowed to feed pigs. Tell me what you want, and gettout of 'ere.'

'Why aren't you in school?'

'I'm poorly. 'o cares? Or are yer not allowed to be under thah weather down south?'

'How did you get that lip?'

''o are you, the FBI?'

The policeman sighed. 'If you don't cooperate, this is a waste of time.'

'Yer right. This is a waste of time. Fuck off.'

'Your father's Jackie Elliot?'

'No, me dad's the Queen of China.'

'The striking miner?'

'Aye, and proud.'

'Can you confirm that he was out yesterday?'

'No.'

'He was here?' The policeman was taking down notes furiously.

'I'm not allowed to cooperate with annoyin' bastards.'

'Look, you seem like a smart girl-'

'Do I, now? That's a new one. I thought I was the daughter of a miner?'

'Hannah-'

'Don't call me by me first name!'

'Miss Elliot,' he said firmly. 'You're father was arrested for assaulting a policeman.'

Hannah opened her mouth with a smart arse response at the ready, but closed it again. 'Get out,' she said quietly.

'Now, there are many legal processes to go through-'

'Get out, get out, get out, get out, now!' she screeched. She grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him up. 'I don't want pigs in my house! Get out!'

She held the scrubbing brush in one hand as he hurried to the door, and threw it at his head. It missed him, but he couldn't resist calling, 'I could have you done for assaulting a policeman!'

'Aye, and I can 'ave you done for sexual harassment! Don't think I won't!'

When the door had closed, she threw the dishcloth at it anyway. Then she sat down at the kitchen table and cried.

_**I had enough material for one long chapter. I still need you to tell me what you want to see!**_


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